Karen spoke up, "So now we're all fed, and refreshed, do you think we can make our way up to Stile Cop? It should only be a thirty to forty minute walk if we take it easy."
"Sounds like a plan." Oliver smiled; his gaze lingered a little longer for Karen's liking. "The incline's a bit of a bitch, but it has to be done."
"If I wasn't so exhausted, we could have made it last night."
"Maybe." Oliver nodded. "I do sometimes think we'd be better off in here, where no one can see us."
"True, but up at the beauty spot, we could set up camp nearby; the higher we are, the safer we are. Besides, a lot of other people might have the same idea, so there may be a few of us eventually. Safer in numbers."
Oliver smiled. He was thinking along those lines not so long ago, but there was still a fraction of him wondering if the woods would be a better hiding place.
The two remained sitting on the grass, their knees tucked into their chest trying to muster the energy to get to their weary feet and make the walk to one of the highest points in their area. Karen knew the day before that the incline of the walk was the main factor why she couldn't go on as well as the lack of sleep she had received since the virus outbreak. She now felt reasonably refreshed—normal even, and combed her brown hair back with her fingers, and tightened up the bobble on her short ponytail.
"I need a shower," she gasped.
Oliver smirked. "Oh, I dunno. You look good to me."
"Oh, please." Karen shook her head.
"What's wrong? You're an attractive woman."
"Am I really?" There was a huge tone of sarcasm in Karen's voice and she wasn't impressed with the compliment from this man.
"Well, I wouldn't say no."
"I lost my boyfriend yesterday and it hasn't even hit me yet. I was attacked and carjacked by two men, we've only just met, I haven't washed in more than twenty four hours, and if you want me to be brutally honest, I'm not attracted to you anyway."
"What harm could it do?"
Karen took a look at Oliver's face; he had changed somewhat over the last few hours, his eyes looked demonic. "Are you serious?" Karen laughed when she asked the question.
Oliver leaned over and placed his hand inbetween Karen's thighs, just above her knee. His hand then gently stroked her inner thigh and slowly made its way upwards. Karen stopped the progression with her own hand. He pushed her hand away and grabbed her crotch; she tried to push him away and said, "What the fuck are you doing?"
Oliver was losing control and he grabbed her by the hair and Karen let out a small shriek. He threw her to the ground and sat on top of her, his knees resting on her arms preventing her from escaping. He leaned over and began kissing the side of her neck and using his tongue to inspect her facial features. His right hand slipped under her light blue uniform trousers and she shrieked as his clumsy, clammy hands pulled out a few pubic hairs as he felt for her opening. He stopped what he was doing, and leaned over toward her and went to kiss the side of his neck while he unzipped his own trousers.
Karen threw her head forward, her forehead connecting violently with Oliver's nose. He let out a shriek as immediately his nose bled; she then used her bodyweight to throw him off and he landed to the side; she then grabbed her club and smacked him across the face as he lay on the floor.
"You can stay away from me from now on!" Karen screamed. "Or I'll kill you, understand me?"
Oliver wearily got to his feet; his face was unrecognisable with the blood he was losing from the damage to his nose and to the side of his cheek. His face looked disfigured, and Karen assumed that the blow from her club had probably fractured his cheekbone. He ran at Karen, which took her by surprise, and she responded by pushing her foot forward into his stomach, winding the man, but also making him fall to the floor.
"What the fuck? What are you doing?" she yelled.
Oliver slavered, "I just wanted to make love to you."
Karen laughed and scrunched her face in befuddlement. "You fucking men," she said with disdain. "You only think with your dicks, and you don't even know how to use them properly. We're living in an apocalyptic world, and you want to empty your balls? Seriously?"
There was no sign of Oliver letting up as he struggled quickly to his feet, and as he did this, Karen bent down and reached for his small axe lying on the grass. As he hobbled within her vicinity for a second time, she never panicked and seemed in control as if she knew exactly what to do.
As he staggered toward her, she suddenly crouched and swung the axe into the side of his left knee. He let out a painful scream and fell to the floor. She wanted to disable him, not kill him. At least this way, it would prevent him from following her. It may have put his own life in danger by now having a handicap, but it was him that chose to attack her, she was just protecting herself.
The blood seeped through his combat trousers, and with the hatchet in her hand, she walked over to the damaged Oliver Bellshaw. He flinched as she stood over him, and using the small axe to lean on, she crouched down toward him.
"I want you from now on to go that way." She pointed toward the outskirts of the woods by the main road. "I don't want you anywhere near these woods anymore, got it?"
He nodded pathetically, and continued with his whimpering.
"Right." She stood to her feet. "I'll be keeping your bag. If I see you again, I'll kill you next time."
Oliver began to sob; his bloodied face looked full of regret, but Karen wasn't falling for his pathetic response.
"Just go," she snarled.
He stood to his feet painfully, as she took a couple of steps backward, and he turned around and hopped painfully away from her toward the main road. It wasn't too far away, but for a man with his injuries, a yard would feel like a hundred.
She remained stationary for a few minutes and could hear the sound of a vehicle in the background. She cocked her head to one side to get a better listen and found that the vehicle was groaning louder. It was coming up the main road; she was split in two whether to flag the vehicle down and try and catch a ride before Oliver got to it first, or just to stick it out on her own.
She had enough food in her bag to last another three days if she rationed it. She decided to stay on her own, as flagging down a vehicle could be potentially opening up another can of worms, she thought. Oliver was a nice guy, but twenty-four hours later, he had changed. There was destruction happening across the country, but not everybody was pulling together for the sake of mankind.
Karen thought that, now that there was probably no police presence and a feeling of lawlessness across the land, the surviving humans might take larger risks and think that they could get away with violence, because there was no law to break anymore.
She suddenly heard the engine of the van to the right side of her, she obviously couldn't see anything because of the condensed trees, but a thud was heard as the van's engine began to decrease in sound as it travelled further away, making its way to the top of Stile Cop Road.
It sounded like it had hit something…or someone.
Oliver.
Chapter Thirty Three
"How much food have we got left?"
Davina had come back from the trees to drain her bladder, and sat with the passenger seat door open. She looked at her watch; it was nearly 11am.
David never answered her question; he was singing songs to Isobel who had decided to give breakfast a miss. Father and daughter were standing by the boot of their Renault. David now had a stick in his hand, and was scrawling figures with the stick in the sandy surface of the beauty spot. He was teaching her how to play noughts and crosses.
Davina never repeated her question, and walked around to the boot of the car and opened it to ruffle through the bag. "Not much," she sighed.
David told Isobel to give him a minute, and he walked over to his wife. There was a silence amongst the couple and Davina looked at David with sadness in her eyes. "How do you think it's come to this?"
David shrugged his shoulders
and looked over to Isobel, who gave him a cheeky wave. He said with a hint of sarcasm, "Take your pick. Are our alien overlords returning to reclaim the planet? Maybe it's a government conspiracy to curb population growth? Is it God's doing?"
"But…are they dead or alive? If they're dead, why do they eat?"
David sighed and took on a more serious tone. "Look, I only know the same as you. Are they alive? What is your definition of alive? Spiritual? Biological? As for eating; is it just to spread the virus or do they really need the food? Does their digestive system work? But they don’t breath and their heart doesn’t pump, or does it? All it needs is the brain and nervous system to move, but without a digestive system and a working heart, the body would shrivel up and dry up and decompose within weeks."
"So what are you saying?"
"Remember what the TV said. The best hope we have is to keep away from these things for as long as possible, and hopefully necrotic degradation will eventually kill them off."
"Necrotic degradation? What's that?"
"I thought you were in the medical field?"
Davina wasn't in the mood for David's sarcasm. "David, as you know, I'm…or was, an auxiliary nurse, which means, all I do is take blood and change beds. I'm not fully qualified."
"Basically, what it means is that they're rotting. So if we humans can steer clear, hopefully they'll wither and collapse. But, even if they did all die, we'd still be in a world where life would never be the same."
"What do you mean?"
"What would you rather face? A gang of unarmed stumblers, or a group of armed human vicious males, desperate for food?"
"Neither," Davina cackled.
David leant over and kissed her on the forehead. "Me neither."
She went to the dashboard of the car and took out his phone; it had one bar left and she tried to ring her mum again. It was the answer machine again. She shook her head in frustration and almost threw the phone to the floor. She was disheartened that there were no text messages either. She switched off the phone to try and preserve its life, and placed it back into the glove compartment.
David walked toward her and placed his hands comfortingly on her shoulders. "We'll get through this."
"Will we?" She sobbed gently, trying not to attract the attention of their daughter. They both tried to keep their emotions in check for the sake of Isobel, but it was easier said than done.
"Daddy," came the innocent voice behind him.
"Yeah, Babs."
"It's your turn." She handed him the stick.
David took the stick off his daughter and gazed at the beautiful little thing. She was so innocent in such a macabre world. How on earth was he going to protect her?
David looked to his right to see the shoulders of Davina shuddering up and down, as she was still crying.
Tinged with sadness, David delicately brushed his fingers through his daughter's blonde hair and almost fell to pieces himself once again. He made his mark on the sand, and she excitedly took it off him and made her mark and threw her hands in the air. "I win, I win."
"Right, you go and practice on your own for a while, and I'll be back in two minutes."
"Okay," she responded with no protest.
He walked away from his daughter and kissed the back of his wife's head. He then made his way to the driver's side, put his keys into the ignition, and put the radio on.
"I thought you already tried that?" Davina spoke from behind.
"Just seeing if there's any new info."
The only station that was working was a BBC station. It was still broadcasting the same information. It was on a loop, and after a few minutes the same information would be repeated, but David wanted to see if anything new had been added.
It was still the same: a bitten human would be infected; they could be killed by damaging the brain, and they believed that they were attracted by noise and light. There wasn't anything else that had been added since the last time he listened.
Davina was sick of crying, but she couldn't help it.
"Mummy, what's wrong?"
Isobel had walked up to her mum, and saw the distressed thirty-four-year-old clinging onto the boot of the car, the tears rolling down her cheeks rapidly. Davina wiped her tears with the back of her hands and turned to face her daughter who was now becoming upset herself. The youngster was feeding off the negative vibes that were occurring around her, and Davina knew it would be impossible to completely protect her.
Davina knelt down and embraced her daughter, and squeezed her hard. Although Davina knew that her offspring had no idea what was happening, she was aware that something was wrong, she had been caught up with the emotion of it all.
When Davina went to her friend's mother's funeral, she felt the tidal wave of emotion in the church procession, and although she never really knew her mother that well, she cried all the same, as if she was a family member herself.
Isobel was feeling the same, feeding off her mother's foreboding.
David walked around to the boot of the car and watched his girls hugging one another; they both broke their embrace and stared at David. He smiled weakly, and approached the girls and crouched down to Isobel's level. They all embraced as a family.
"It's gonna be okay. I promise," David spoke softly, and kissed the cheeks of both of the tearstained cheeks of his girls.
"How do you know that?" There was anger in Davina's voice. She stood to her feet. "You keep saying that! We should have stayed in the house; there's no going back now!"
David stood up himself so he could speak to his wife at eye level. "We couldn't stay in there, it was too dangerous. You knew that!"
David halted his rant and looked down to his daughter; she looked frightened, her face shook and her tears fell freely. She knew there was something wrong, but had no clue what it was. She was four years old, but she wasn't stupid.
"Could you stop arguing, please," the little thing spoke delicately. "I'm feeling sad."
Chapter Thirty Four
The lime green 1300cc BMW roared its way along the Stafford Road. It passed the Wolseley Arms pub and now continued to growl audibly along the Rugeley Road. He looked around, and was still feeling queasy about a fly he had accidentally swallowed as he rode past the Darlaston Inn, back in Stoke.
He was enjoying the new found freedom on his new toy, but the downside of not riding without a helmet was the suicidal insects that hit him in the face the faster he went through the country roads. There was two occasions where his eyes were nearly damaged from the kamikaze blue bottles, but a third paid the price by flying right into Jack Slade's mouth.
The journey was uneventful, apart from the odd sighting of the beings, but Jack put this quiet episode down to the fact that he had remained on the country roads, and stayed away from the populated areas by going the long way around. He knew being on the bike was plain stupidity, but it was only temporary. He knew that if there were groups of them, he would probably have to turn the vehicle around for fear of being pulled off.
When he reached Rugeley, he rode the bike into a street called Crabtree Road; it was adjacent to a Primary school called John Bamford, which his son, Thomas, had started attending.
The bike was parked up by seven Crabtree Road, and Jack looked at the old house. He hadn't been back for a while. It had been too long. He had been a crappy father, and it was typical that the week that he promised himself that it was all going to change before it was too late, disaster had struck.
He looked around the barren street; curtains were drawn, and people were obviously inside but probably scared out of their wits. He walked toward the house and peered around to check the back garden, it was all clear.
He knocked the window, but there was no answer. Were they hiding inside? He couldn't tell if Kerry was in by looking for her car, as there was no drive and the street was full of parked cars. Jack was unsure if Kerry possessed a car or could even drive at all! He looked and could see there was no sign of barricading, which told hi
m that they were out. To be certain, he picked up a rock from the garden's rockery and gently tapped the glass of the living room window. He thought that breaking in would make them vulnerable, but promised to board the broken pane up if Kerry and Thomas were in the house.
The glass gave way gently, and Jack slipped his arm in and opened the side window. The side window of the living room was just enough for him to squeeze through, and he jumped onto the burgundy carpet of the living room. He scanned the room and even though he had only checked one room, he was certain that the house was barren. The disappointment on his face was self-evident knowing there was nobody home, and weighed down with frustration, a surge of anger ran through his frame.
He didn't even call out for Kerry; he jogged his way upstairs and checked the remaining rooms nevertheless. The last room he checked was the bathroom, and as soon as he saw the toilet, his bowels reminded him that they were due to be emptied. Aware that he was in the middle of some kind of apocalypse where flesh eating beings roamed, he felt reasonably relaxed spending time on the toilet, and took it a stage further when he had a quick cold shower for two minutes, before putting his clothes back on.
He went down to the ground floor and took a look in the fridge. There was no bread or milk. He made do with a huge slice of Wensleydale cheese, a packet of crisps and a packet of jaffa cakes. To add some health to the equation, he devoured the almost black banana and drank the remains of the OJ that sat under the sink.
He couldn't comprehend where she could have gone, so he decided to pick up her landline phone. He thought about calling her mum's to see if she was there with Thomas, but he didn't know her number, and even if he did, he remembered the verbal scolding he was given by Kerry when he phoned her back in Glasgow. He didn't know what the situation was at her mum's; it could have been reasonably peaceful, or the house could be surrounded. He was going to ride there instead. It was only two miles away; it was the only place he could think of where they could be.
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