by Ian Woodhead
“Oh, give me a break. I can’t believe that you can stand there and spout out all that bullshit,” added a third voice.
Mortimer gritted his teeth against the sense of shock that had just coursed through his body. He turned and glared at their older brother framed in the doorway, his face proudly wearing a big stupid grin. Mortimer was more annoyed at the fact that he hadn’t even heard Martin approach. Some zombie-hunting warrior he was turning out to be. The thought of ordering his brother to wear a cow bell around his neck did make him feel a little better.
“I’m not a complete idiot, you know. Standing there and preaching like some big fat ugly eunuch. You’re both guilty of spying on me while I’ve been busy entertaining my girls.”
Oh great, that was just marvellous. Now Martin thought that both he and Daniel were perverts. He glanced over at his twin, not all that surprised to see his face glowing like a red light bulb.
“Look, you don’t have to be so coy, guys. We are men, after all, and despite your transparent denials I know that you both have the urges, although I know your urges aren’t as strong as mine.”
“Haven’t you got a body to remove?” snapped Mortimer.
“Just listen to me for a moment. They said that we could have anything we wanted. Anything at all.” Martin shrugged. “It sounded like a good deal at the time, considering that if it hadn’t been for us three, the remainder of the human species would now all be shambling about, stinking up the place and looking for fresh meat.” He walked over to Mortimer and sat down opposite him. "Thing is, although the guys in white coats wanted to keep us sweet, they didn't want us to get all emotional over girls, ‘cause that would have really spoiled the plans that they have for us." He took a small handful of pills from his pocket and dropped them on the table in front of Mortimer. "There's a few days’ worth of treatments there. I stopped taking them two weeks ago."
"That really isn't allowed!" gasped Daniel. "They said that the treatments keep us protected, and it also keeps the antidote in our blood from degrading. You'll get into trouble if they catch you."
“Yeah, I remember them saying stuff like that. Not long after they found out what was in our blood,” said Martin. He walked over to his younger brother and picked up a Lego figure. “I’m telling the truth here, you know. We saved mankind and this is how they reward us? They give you an unlimited supply of fucking Legos.” He turned to Mortimer. “What about you? Come on, guy. Do you really want to spend the rest of your life plugged into that stupid game?”
Mortimer stood up and snatched the figure out of his fingers. “You’re doing it again, Martin. Doing what you’re best at, you’re stirring up trouble. We’re happy here, a lot happier than anyone else could ever be in this fucked up country. Why can’t you just accept that?”
Martin sighed. “You just murdered some girl in cold blood and it hasn’t even registered with you. The treatments that they make you take are designed to keep you subdued and happy, to never question anything that they tell you. It appears that they have also eroded your morality as well. You're both my brothers. You two are the only family that I have. Don't you two look at me like I've gone crazy. We need to stick together. Those bastards have been lying to us from day one."
“So your plan is to do what, exactly?” Mortimer should have known the bastard would try to do something like this. It was just typical for their older brother to try to mind fuck the pair of them. He didn’t really care about his two brothers at all. This was just Martin’s childish way of seeking revenge. In fact, the more Mortimer looked at those tablets, the more they looked like ordinary painkillers.
“It’s simple. First of all, we need to get you two out of here and see what it’s really like outside. Then we should get both of you laid, then perhaps find a bar and have a couple of drinks together.”
“We can’t do that,” murmured Daniel. “We’re not allowed alcohol either.”
“Oh Jesus,” exploded Martin. “Will you listen to yourself? This isn’t paradise, it’s a fucking prison. In fact it’s worse than that, at least if you were inside there was a chance that they’d let you out.” He ran over to the huge mirror embedded into the wall of the playroom and started to bang on it.
“Martin!” hissed Daniel. “What the hell are you doing?”
“You can’t treat us like this!” Martin shouted. He continued to slam his fists against the glass. “We saved your fucking lives!”
Mortimer glanced over at Daniel when the outer door silently slid open. Martin was too busy sobbing to even notice that three white-coated men had just entered their playroom. Two of them walked over to Martin. Mortimer watched one of them inject their brother with something, then they dragged the now limp body out of the room.
“Gentlemen, I’m a little upset with the pair of you. I thought we trusted each other. Why didn’t you tell me that Martin had not been acting like his usual self?”
The man looked about thirty-five. Mortimer wasn’t too sure of his exact age; he’d never bothered to ask him. Supposedly their caretaker’s name was Joseph, but even that was probably not his real name.
Standing at just under six feet, the man was still smaller than all the brothers, although his mass of light brown, curly hair exploding out of his head did give him an extra inch. Martin was at least right about the boys being saviors of the human race. If it hadn’t been for the man standing in front of them, it would be likely that right now, the three brothers would be all that was left of their species.
Joseph had been the one who had found them. It had been this man and this man alone who had kept them safe during the first few nightmarish weeks of chaos. Of course, the fact that he’d found the brothers hiding in their cellar, with a dozen dead zombies lying in close proximity must have given the scientist some clue to the brothers’ value.
Mortimer had tried to block that part of his life away. Now though, thanks to the sudden appearance of Joseph, coupled with their brother’s outlandish behavior, those last few nightmarish days played out, in full sound and color in front of his eyes.
* * *
It had only been a week after the twins’ thirteenth birthday party when the whole world had gone to complete shit. At first, both Mortimer and Daniel had thought that witnessing the dead coming back to life and eating folks was probably the most awesome thing ever to happen in their lives. Seeing all those zombies killing people on the nightly news was far better than anything that their video games could have come up with.
Their excitement took a serious blow when the news hit the Internet that a select few were turning without getting bitten. The fear became more profound when these select few began growing daily. When the outbreak reached their hometown, their terror increased exponentially.
The TV stations ceased to broadcast the next day and the Internet followed the day after. Their last message from the outside world arrived via an old radio, a single transmission asking for forgiveness.
Their family suddenly found themselves barricaded in their house, with the company of five neighbors and a terrified mailman named Geoff.
Their dad, two of the male neighbors and Geoff had made the house secure, using what tools and wood that they could find around the house. Just as well, considering there had been over a dozen attempted break-ins from hordes of the dead in the space of a couple of days.
It had finally ceased to be a game. Both Mortimer and Daniel had tried to give out helpful hints and advice, only to be shouted down by the others, mainly their older brother. In fact, looking back, it had been Martin who had done nearly all the shouting.
His dad had told the kids that they’d be able to survive inside the house for at least a month before things got a bit tight with the food, even with the extra mouths to feed. It appeared that their dad had made provisions for something like this years ago, and had prepared himself.
It seemed ironic that he was the first one to turn. Their dad, the one who had tried to prepare for every eventuality, could not do a thing
about stopping himself from changing into one of those dead things. It had only taken him the better part of one nightmarish hour to infect the rest of the family. For the first time in his very selfish life, Martin had thought about others instead of himself, and had dragged his two brothers into the cellar before bolting the door behind them.
The adults had not stopped trying to scratch their way inside. The noise had been constant; for every minute of the day and night, they had worked on the wood. Looking back, Mortimer believed that if Daniel hadn’t cracked first, then he would have done it.
His twin brother had suddenly just leaped up and screamed out that he couldn’t take it anymore, and ran up the stairs, shouting that he needed to see daylight, that he needed to see the sun. Martin had raced after him, yet despite the size difference between the two boys, the older brother still hadn’t been able to stop the frantic boy from unbolting the cellar door.
The dead fell in. Mortimer had screamed out at the sight of both his mother and father biting into Martin’s arms. The mailman and Mrs. Barraclough had seen Mortimer crouching in the corner next to a box of baked beans, and, ignoring the other two, started to shuffle their way over to him. He’d felt his bladder let go. Mortimer had started to throw tins at the things, sobbing and yelling at them, ordering the zombies to get away from him. They’d only increased their speed until they reached his shivering form. Both had started to growl, and he saw the hunger in their eyes. Before the pair of them dived down and bit into his flesh, Mortimer saw his two brothers standing up, and the zombies that had attacked them were now on the floor, not moving. Mortimer had screamed out when he felt their teeth pierce his flesh, but there was no pain. The next thing he saw was the mailman and his neighbor falling down, both convulsing.
Mortimer couldn’t remember much of what had happened after that. The days had passed in a blur. He knew that all three of them had somehow managed to stay alive until a group of government officials had found them in that cellar, sharing it with the rotting bodies. Apparently it had been the foul smell of decomposing flesh that had alerted them to their presence. No zombies anywhere on the planet were rotting, and after the living dead had finished eating the humans they had caught, there wasn’t much flesh left on the bones to decompose.
The government officials had stumbled across the only three humans on the planet that were immune to the zombie plague. The news turned into a celebration of relief and hope when the scientists soon discovered that all of the kids also had the makings of an antidote in their blood. Humanity now had a chance of surviving this nightmare.
* * *
Mortimer watched the door slide shut, leaving him and his brother alone with the scientist. Until Martin started banging on that mirror, he’d been prepared to believe that his brother was just being a dick. He caught his face in the mirror’s reflection and tried to wipe the concern from his features. It was obvious now that the mirror was also a window. Heck, how could he have been so blind?
“Why are you yelling at us?” shouted Daniel. “You know what he’s like. We just thought he was doing what he always does, bullying people and making their lives a fucking misery.” He stood up and picked up some Lego pieces that had fallen on the floor. “Joseph, can you please go away? I have to finish this building. Oh, and tell the cooks that I want a large pizza. Make sure that they don’t leave out the garlic this time.”
“Well, I must say, this is not how I expected you to behave,” said Joseph. “Are you not concerned about Martin?”
“I’m more concerned about the fact that you’re still here. Martin is Martin. He’s always been a fucking dick.” Daniel glanced up from his building. “Now will you please leave us alone!”
Mortimer watched their keeper take two steps back before spinning around and hurrying out of the room. From the expression on his face, Mortimer thought he’d been about to deliver one of his little speeches, probably something along the lines of just how invaluable the brothers were to the cause of saving the human species. Joseph generally did resort to that one when tempers were a little frayed. Mortimer shrugged, thankful he didn’t have to listen to Joseph go on and on.
“Shit, some of my Legos are on the floor.” Daniel got on his hands and knees and started to pick up some of the pieces. “Come on, Mortimer. Don’t just stand there watching me, help me pick them up.”
As Mortimer bent down, Daniel took out the little notepad that he kept in his pocket. He scribbled something onto the top sheet, then pushed the paper into Mortimer’s hand, ensuring that Mortimer folded his fingers over the sheet of paper.
“Pick them up yourself,” Mortimer announced. “I need to take a piss.” He hurried out of the playroom, leaving Daniel to continue crawling about under his table. When he reached his own bedroom, he leaned against the wall, making sure that he was away from any mirrors before he opened the paper. He silently sighed when he read the hastily scribbled words. It looked as though Mortimer wasn’t the only one who believed what their older brother had said.
Chapter Four
Sharp stone cut through the back of his frayed shirt like a knife slicing into soft cheese. Kenny’s discomfort rapidly turned to hot pain as he thrust his body against the wall, pressing until he felt the stones cut through his flesh as well.
As streams of blood ran down his back, Kenny sighed in relief as all that dense fog swirling through his sleep-deprived mind left him. It didn’t stand a chance of competing against the self-inflicted agony.
Kenny tensed himself then proceeded to rub his spine up and down the wall. He couldn’t afford to let that fucking slowness back inside his head, no way. He’d already almost ended up dead again due to whatever weird shit had been used to cut the drug. The stuff had seriously messed with his head. He stood up and thrust his arms into the air, then counted from ten to one, not daring to move away until he was sure that the mist wouldn’t creep back inside his head.
“I hope you die slowly, Rossini, you fucking shit,” he growled. There would be fat chance of that. Somebody with his status would have access to all the best drugs available. Kenny stooped and picked up his leather jacket and wrapped it around his torso before picking up his gun. The feel of the cold steel barrel reminded him just how close he’d been to finding himself on the menu of a dead thing. “Oh Christ. I can’t believe that happened.”
The corpse must have been lurking in this abandoned dockyard for months. Biding its time, and waiting for some unwary idiot to decide to bed down in here for the night. What upset Kenny more than anything was that he had thoroughly searched the immediate area before relaxing. The months of sleeping rough in the outer zones had shown him the hard way what could happen to people if they let their guard down for just a few moments. Those rich bastards as well as the drones thought they were safe in their housing blocks and large houses, all cooped up in the citystate’s inner zone. They didn’t have a clue.
His eyes drifted down to the blackened mess of foul wet lumps sliding through the cracks of the wooden jetty. The tattered remains of its clothing stuck to the leathery flesh, reminded Kenny of wet toilet paper. He sighed to himself, now understanding why he hadn’t found it on his search last night. The sneaky bastard must have been under the water.
“You fucker,” he hissed, savagely booting it in the side. He grunted and cursed himself for wasting his energy. It felt as though he’d just kicked a piece of rolled up carpet.
It had lunged for Kenny from out of an open doorway as he’d passed the building. He should have died there and then, considering, at the moment it struck, dust bunnies had been operating his mind. Kenny’s thoughts had been spinning around the next planet. His body had taken over. If his finger hadn’t been inside the trigger guard at that exact moment, the dead bastard would have ripped him to bits.
The gunshot had temporarily brought him back down to earth. Kenny had seen the mashed head with the foul smelling black gunk leaking out, and his first coherent thought was wondering who had shot it.
H
e walked away from the revolting thing, feeling his blood congealing on the inside of his jacket. What the hell was in the stuff polluting his poor body? More importantly, how long was it going to last? Before Diane had left him last night, she had outlined her plan; at the time it sounded viable. Right now though, he wasn’t sure, even if they did get him another hit, how it would react to the stuff already in his body. Kenny had heard quite a few horror stories about what happened to people who mixed and matched.
“Come on, enough with the pessimism,” he muttered. “By rights, you should be dead by now.”
The forced happy thought failed to make an entrance, no matter how hard he pushed. He sighed to himself before stopping to gaze at the black water a few meters from his feet. He wondered if there could be any more of them lurking in there. He guessed that he must be the only piece of food that had sneaked into the docks for months. The whole reason why he chose this place last night was because he knew that no constable would dare to come in here. Come to think of it, neither would any other stray like himself; the rumors were rife about others sleeping in here, then disappearing.
Everyone knew that the docks were the only place in the city where a wild dead thing could get in. It seemed ironic that with this being the case, it would be the safest area in the outer zones to hide from the constables. Those cowardly bastards daren’t show their faces in here. A real dead thing would chew up a constable before they had time to scream for their mother.
Kenny walked up to the edge and looked towards the horizon. The odds were definitely stacked up against them though. The next piece of land was over two hundred miles away. Still, he’d just found out from experience that it was still possible. His fevered imagination cooked up a pair of cold, grey hands reaching up out of that murky water and grabbing his ankles. Kenny hurriedly stepped back.