by Mark Tufo
He picked up the other half of his sandwich and unwrapped it. He took a small bite, this time, intending to savor the taste. He should have made himself two packs. This last half would not fill him up. “Somehow, I doubt that any of the local takeaways will be open tonight.”
Bugger it, there was plenty of bread and filling left at home; if the desire to eat resurfaced, it would take just minutes to go back. “Focus, Dennis,” he said to himself, “you need to stop thinking about food, you’re getting as bad as your fellow travelers.” He chuckled and took another bite. Dennis wondered if he might be looking at this problem in the wrong way. The simple fact of it might be that since every part of their basic humanity had been stripped away, these creatures could be killing and eating people just for the enjoyment of it. He had assumed that they had no emotions left, but perhaps happiness had remained? He stuffed more of the food into his mouth. Why not? After all, he had never been able to find a logical reason for his own homicidal behavior.
One question that had been troubling him remained: Why did they seem to target selected individuals? Poor Claire was in tiny pieces, while her friend only suffered a simple bite wound on her thigh. What separated the food from the recruited? Or had Claire had been consumed have to do with something else entirely?
His half-chewed food almost splattered across his side window when he spotted a very familiar figure stumbling out of a house a couple of doors down from where he’d parked. Of all the people he’d expected to see, Scary Mary was not one of them. It didn’t surprise Dennis to see that her docile husband was just behind her. Dennis watched her for a couple of seconds with a huge grin plastered over his face. The stupid fat fuck could not get her legs to coordinate. Scary Mary was spending more time on her litter-strewn garden path than on her feet.
Oh goodness, the sight of that dead thing rolling about on the weed-infested lawn whilst trying to get up would keep him chuckling for days. This was such a glorious opportunity. He reached for his pistol and pushed a single round in the chamber. He paused, then pushed in another round. The husband would need to go as well. Dennis couldn’t leave him wandering about unchecked. Loose ends should not be allowed to go untied.
He was so going to enjoy watching her head explode. It would be the ultimate revenge for having to put up with the endless insults and snide remarks from that uneducated and spiteful big tub of lard.
Since embracing his darker urges all those years ago, Dennis had understand that keeping a low profile would be crucial if he were to remain out of jail. It had taken him years to learn the craft of concealment, of blending in with any crowd. To become nondescript was to become invincible. How could any witness describe you to the law if they didn’t remember your face or what you were?
Dennis believed that he’d become a grand master at his chosen craft. Apart from his mad neighbor, he knew that he’d be able to walk the streets of Breakspear at any time, safe in the knowledge that nobody would confront him. His only Achilles’ heel had been her. The dead whale currently trying to put one foot in front of the other had taken an instant dislike to Dennis. He had no idea what he’d done to upset her. Looking back, he couldn’t for the life of him figure out why he hadn’t murdered her years ago. It wouldn’t have been that difficult. Although it wasn’t his style, Dennis could have easily made it look like an accident, a simple case of her choking on her own vomit, and the pain in his read end would have been out of the way forever.
“Well, it’s better late than never.”
She had managed to reach her front gate. Considering the obstacles in her way, Dennis thought that she deserved a round of applause. Then again, maybe not. By watching her down all the drink in the Horse and Jockey, he knew that Scary Mary would be used to stumbling about and falling over. He gripped the gun tight, his only regret that the bitch wouldn’t suffer.
Oh, he would have walked a mile over broken glass to have been given the chance of stuffing the screaming and sobbing woman in the back of his van with his guests. He was sure they would have taken more than a few hours to consume her.
His chewed-up food did splat against the glass when he saw more movement from the corner of his eye. Dennis sat back in his seat, unable to grasp just what he was seeing. A vast swarm of the dead creatures shambled and lurched towards his location. Jesus Christ, they were coming out of every open door; sitting up from where they’d been lying in gardens; Dennis even saw a few roll out from beneath cars. It looked like the whole of Breakspear was out there. He guessed that he wasn’t that far from the truth with that statement. They filled the road, the pavements, and the gardens on either side. Mary and her husband joined the mass and he lost them in the crowd. Dennis felt like a goldfish looking out as a school of piranhas swam past his bowl. Despite knowing that he was safe in here, he still felt his heartbeat double up. God, what a rush. He tapped on the side window as they passed his van, a little disappointed when none of them even glanced up. His guests had started up the moaning song again. He now had two more questions that needed answers. How did his occupants know that their comrades were on the march and, just as important, where were they all heading off to?
Dennis rapped his fist against the partition. “Hush up, back there. Any more of that silliness and I won’t get you any more food. You’re all very naughty zombies. You are not going out to play with your friends.”
He giggled and felt one of his mental gears slipping a cog. Did he really just spurt out with all that nonsense?
Within a few moments, the swarm of dead had passed by his van. He watched them get further away through his wing mirror, thinking that must be the strangest thing that he’d seen so far tonight.
Their moaning receded into the distance, and he nodded to himself and sighed when his occupants’ noises quieted down as well. It gave the low thudding at the back of his head a bit of a rest. Dennis’s peace didn’t last for more than a couple of seconds, though. He leaned forward in his seat at the sight of twin beams of light running parallel to his van. So he wasn’t the only survivor left in the estate after all. The engine started up. Dennis frowned; it sounded very similar to his armoured van. The light from the stranger’s headlights was too powerful to make out the type of vehicle. It wasn’t a car, that much Dennis had already worked out.
He wasn’t the only one who’d heard the noise either. Dennis watched a young couple streak out of a door a bit further up the road and stop in the middle of the street, jumping up and waving their arms. The bodies blocked out some of the powerful headlights and now he saw the unmistakable shape of a military vehicle.
“Oh, now this is a turn up for the books,” he murmured. The vehicle screeched to a halt and Dennis watched several soldiers, all equipped with full face masks, run from behind the armored car and point their rifles at the pair.
They forced the two to lie on the ground face down with their arms behind their backs. A moment later, another vehicle approached and stopped behind the first vehicle.
“Well, this is not what I expected.” Dennis watched through the side window as two men dressed in white bio-hazard suits stepped out of their vehicle, which reminded him of a dog warden van. Dennis had the feeling that these gentlemen would not be transporting canines in the back of their vehicle. Both men carried a pole, a couple of feet taller than them, with stiff wire loops on the ends.
They fastened the loops around the neck of the sobbing people and pushed them into the back of the van. They weren’t being very gentle, either.
“So, we do indeed have new players in the game. The action moves up one more notch.” He watched both vehicles turn around and drive further into the estate. That told him that these strangers must have set up a base on his hunting ground. “Events in Breakspear are about to become most interesting.”
Chapter Thirteen
A subtle shift in the group’s hierarchy had happened about half an hour ago. They hadn’t noticed the change, but he certainly had. Kevin had even saw it coming. This had happened to him all of
his life. When he got together in a group, it didn’t take long for him to be relegated to the bottom of the pile.
His girl now stood shoulder-to-shoulder with the lanky thug. How long would it be before they were holding hands? Kevin squeezed the bayonet’s handle and told himself to stop getting so paranoid. Both Stephanie and Darren stood with Kevin on the roof of a garage, searching the streets for any sign of the shambling horde. He stood behind Stephanie, wishing that he had a gun, like they both did.
“Come on, you must be able to see them now.”
Darren nodded. “Fuck me, lass, you’ve got sharp bastard eyes.”
She glanced over her shoulder and smiled at Kevin. “Sorry, Darren, I’ll take a pass on that. Besides, I’m already taken.” She winked at Kevin, but by the time he’d winked back, the girl had already turned back to face the street. Kevin sighed.
Clearly the lanky thug loved his new toy. He hadn’t let go of it ever since leaving the house, not since he’d found out how much of a mess it made with human flesh. He cradled his shotgun as if it was his newest teddy bear. Kevin had even seen him stroking the stock a few minutes ago.
Darren had fired two rounds while still in that house. The first one had taken out the soldier’s face, while the other round had destroyed the top of Edgar’s head. Rather than leaving well enough alone, Darren had opened up the closet door to see what his old pal had been doing under the stairs; he’d believed that Edgar might have been hiding a huge cache of weapons with him. That made Kevin so angry, like it was perfectly acceptable to place everyone’s life in danger just to satisfy his curiosity. If that shotgun hadn’t worked, they would have all ended up like that poor soldier.
He looked down at his stupid bayonet again and wondered if he would still be so bitter if they had found more weapons under the stairs. Past experience told him that very little would have changed. Oh, the group would have upgraded their weapons alright. Those two would have picked up rocket launchers or assault rifles, while he would have had to make do with a fucking air pistol.
There had been one discovery from Darren’s reckless act that had confused the hell out of all of them. Stephanie had discovered that the soldier was wearing some very curious protective covering under his fatigues. His legs and arms were covered in flexible, tightly-meshed armor.
Stephanie told them both that it wasn’t standard issue. In a combat situation, only the torso was protected. They both looked at her in astonishment as she reeled all this out. It turned out that his trembling new girlfriend was in the bloody Armed Forces. She’d snatched up the pistol from the chair and, within seconds, had pulled it apart. Stephanie showed them where the ID plate had been filed off and the unusual rounds in the magazine. She concluded that the soldier wasn’t regular Army, more like private security or a mercenary. Darren had agreed with her, moving his head up and down like a fucking nodding dog, and didn’t object when she’d stuffed the gun down her jeans. Watching Stephanie take the pistol was the point wherein the shift in hierarchy had taken place. Unless the group found another survivor, Kevin believed that he’d stay there.
“It’s like a fucking football crowd,” said Darren.
He moved forward, standing just behind Stephanie and resting his hands on her shoulders. Kevin followed their gazes and felt his spine turn to water as hundreds of the shamblers slowly made their way through the estate.
“Jesus! Look at that bastard go!” shouted Darren, pointing at a house opposite where they were.
Kevin gaped in horror as a young lad leapt from an upper floor window; he rolled on the grass below and limped out of the garden gate. They could hear him screaming from where they stood.
“Come on, lad,” urged Kevin, “you can do it.”
Even limping, he was outpacing them.
“I’ll bet anyone a tenner that the guy gets eaten.”
Kevin groaned aloud when he saw a couple of the dead emerge from a garden in front of the boy. He swerved to try to avoid their flailing arms but then tripped up over his own feet. As he went down, several more of the things homed in and fell on him, tearing away at him viciously. Kevin closed his eyes and tried not to burst into tears.
“Oh yes!” shouted Darren. “That’s money in the bank.”
He heard Stephanie call him a heartless bastard. Darren just laughed back at her. Kevin tried to imagine what he would have done in the poor kid’s place. Kevin had been lucky when he got out of the house. There were only a couple of the things after him, not a thousand. He opened his eyes and looked at the bayonet. Would he have had the guts to slit his own throat, to stop himself from changing?
Kevin wanted a gun; it wasn’t fair. Darren said that Steph could have one because she was more of a man than he was. He wasn’t too sure whether he liked the new Stephanie yet. He preferred it when she had clung to him like a limpet and squealed at every sudden movement. A bit sad and pathetic. Kevin sighed. A bit like he still was.
“Okay, it’s time to fuck off. I’m not keen on staying here when those fuckers arrive.”
Kevin decided that it was time to make his stand. He shook his head. “I’m not going to the cemetery.”
“Oh for crying out loud, not this bullshit again. Now you listen to me, you fucking retarded clown. They are not fucking zombies. It’s a chemical bastard weapon. The dead have not come back to life.”
“Bollocks,” Kevin replied. “I know what I saw and I saw some dead thing crawl up my fucking stairs!” he screamed.
Darren sighed and thrust his hand out in front of him. “I can’t take this bullshit any more. Look lass, he’s your fucking baggage, you sort him out.” He jumped off the shed and hurried into the back garden. “Don’t take forever either, cos I ain’t waiting.”
Stephanie walked up to Kevin, hugged him tight, and kissed him gently on the lips. “I do believe you, Kevin.”
“But you still want to go with him.”
She nodded. Kevin felt like he’d just been punched in the stomach.
“Darren is a foul-mouthed dickhead, but he’s handy with a gun and at least he’s still alive.”
“Only just.”
“Oi Darren!” she shouted. “Is that bone yard still in use?”
“Nobody’s been planted in there for over fifty years.”
“You see? There’ll be six feet of hard-packed soil between your feet and a few old bones. Besides, what other option do we have?”
Kevin slowly nodded. “Okay then.”
They both jumped down and caught up to Darren, who was busy trying to climb over a six-foot fence. Stephanie scaled it easily and helped the reluctant Darren to the top. Kevin didn’t need any help. He reached the top and looked behind him. He couldn’t see the things just yet.
The cemetery was just off the next street. Until now, he’d never thought about how odd it was to have some deserted old graveyard smack bang in the middle of a housing estate.
“That’s a blast from the past,” said Darren. “I haven’t seen one of those old things for a long time.”
Kevin looked up to see a dark blue van slowly glide past the front of the house. “Do you think they could be soldiers?”
Darren glared at him. “What are you asking me for? I haven’t got all the answers.”
“I’ve seen that van tonight already,” muttered Stephanie.
“Yeah well, I didn’t think that we’d be the only ones still alive in Breakspear. They ain’t gonna get right far in that old thing though,” said Darren. “That tin box will stop the zombies, but as soon as the soldiers see that they’ll blast it sky high.”
Kevin watched the van turn off into a side street and disappear. “I wonder what he’s doing?”
“He’s selling ice cream, you fucking retard,” sneered Darren.
Stephanie giggled.
“It’s fucking obvious what he’s doing, ain’t it? He’s looking for survivors.”
“You mean like us?”
Darren’s eyes blazed. “You can drop that idea right now, Kevin.
The answer’s no. We ain’t gonna start running after that van. Besides, I’ve got us a foolproof plan to get us out of here.”
“So what’s in that cemetery, Darren?” Stephanie asked.
“You ain’t from around here are you, lass?”
She shook her head. “No, we were just visiting. We live in Leeds.”
“Well, if you follow me, sweetheart, you’ll be back in Leeds in a few hours. There’s a stretch of land separating the old church from the graveyard and there’s a manhole right in the …”
“If you’re thinking of that rat tunnel,” interrupted Kevin, “Forget it. The council blocked it up a few years ago.”
“Interrupt me again, tosspot, and I’ll throw you into those nettles. I bet you didn’t go down there before it got blocked up, did you?”
Kevin shook his head.
“I didn’t think so, you little chickenshit. Well, that tunnel is part of a network and apparently one of the tunnels leading off goes all the way into the rise.”
“But how do we get in if it’s been blocked off?”
Darren jumped down. “There’s another way in.”
Kevin glanced behind him. Those things were now visible and were getting uncomfortably close. He wondered where they were heading. Kevin had the feeling that they were heading to the cemetery too. He followed Stephanie and climbed down.
They ran through the garden and onto the main road. This was the main bus route through the estate. The shops and the local pub were just a bit further down. They hurried over the deserted road and onto the grass verge on the other side. The council had erected a chain link fence all around the church and the cemetery. Kevin remembered it going up. He also remembered how long it had taken them to finish it. The estate kids kept tearing it down every time the workers buggered off home.