The Undead Day Nineteen

by Haywood, RR

  ‘Good cricket bat,’ he says, looking down at the blood stained bat on the floor, ‘got teeth next to it too.’

  ‘You like cricket?’ I ask him, mildly surprised.

  ‘Love cricket’ he says with a big grin, ‘don’t you?’

  ‘Er,’ I say, blowing air out, ‘never really understood it to be honest.’

  ‘What? Hitting a ball with a bat?’

  ‘No all the terminology, like overs and…googly and all that stuff and the way they score it like England were twenty four for seven or whatever they say.’

  ‘Ah,’ he says with a deep nod and presses the button under his shirt, ‘Roy, we have a non-believer here.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘The Boss.’

  ‘Ale or cricket?’

  ‘Cricket.’

  ‘Ah,’ Roy says deeply through the radio, ‘this is very serious.’

  ‘Very serious,’ Clarence says to me, ‘well, looks like they’re close then,’ he adds with a final look round.

  ‘Yep, bloody mess if you ask me.’

  ‘Very droll.’

  We trudge down the stairs adding more bloodstained footprints to the ones already there and in that second I ponder the future and wonder if our bloody footprints will remain there for tens of years or maybe even longer. Days and nights that will pass as the seasons change and the years roll by outside of this house that will probably never be lived in again. The bricks will slowly crumble. The roof will fall in. The ivy and plants will go through the joists and break through the mortar in the brickwork and one day a cyborg mutant alien will stroll by and cast a casual look at the ruins and wonder who lived here.

  ‘What’s the dog got?’ Paula asks, bringing me out of my weighty thoughts as Meredith trots purposefully past her with her mouth clamped suspiciously closed.

  ‘Dunno, she got something from the bathroom,’ I say as I stroll back to the vehicles.

  ‘What was in the bathroom?’ She asks.

  ‘Lots of blood,’ I say, ‘and a cricket bat and some teeth.’

  ‘Urgh really?’ She asks with a wince, ‘old or new?’

  ‘New, the blood is still wet.’

  ‘What’s Meredith got in her mouth?’ Blowers asks.

  ‘I don’t know, mate, she took it from the bathroom.’

  ‘You said the bathroom was covered in blood,’ Marcy says.

  ‘It is.’

  ‘So what did she take then?’ Paula asks me.

  ‘I don’t know,’ I say with a huff, ‘she picked it up and ran out.’

  ‘Howie, that’s disgusting,’ Marcy says with a tut, ‘she could have anything.’

  ‘Disgusting? She was ripping arms from people a couple of days ago.’

  ‘Blowers,’ Marcy calls, ‘get her to drop it.’

  Blowers clicks his tongue for Meredith who turns to look at him then pulls her head back as he walks towards her, ‘come on…what you got?’ She twists away, not walking off but just turning her head left and right with her mouth still closed. ‘Meredith,’ he says in a low gentle telling off voice, ‘come on, drop…drop…’ She starts to grumble in protest with her tail wagging low and still twisting her head side to side. ‘Nick, give us a hand, mate.’

  He runs over to gently hold her neck and bends down to look at her mouth, ‘drop… come on sweetie, drop it now...Meredith…’

  ‘She’s not giving it up is she,’ Marcy says walking towards them, ‘let me have a go.’ She gets closer and squats down in front of the dog who is looking distinctly unimpressed with the amount of attention at the contents of her mouth. ‘Let me see, it might be bad for you, come on open up,’ she gets a hand on Meredith’s nose and another on her lower jaw and starts easing them apart. Meredith swishes left and right and grumbles but she doesn’t growl and after a few seconds of minor resistance she finally gives in and opens her mouth.

  ‘Got it,’ Marcy says with a grimace at the soft thing covered in dog goo and blood in her hand, ‘here,’ she passes it back to Blowers and fusses Meredith’s head who tracks the transfer of the object with keen eyes.

  ‘What is it?’ Paula asks.

  ‘Dunno,’ Blowers says, holding it up. Several inches long and quite thick but covered in blood, ‘it’s floppy,’ he says holding it at one end and wiggling it side to side.

  ‘A thumb?’ Nick asks, peering closer.

  ‘Don’t think so,’ Blowers says peering hard, ‘it’s familiar but…’

  ‘Is it human?’ Cookey asks, leaning from the door of the Saxon.

  ‘Sausage?’ Roy asks.

  ‘Everything okay?’ Charlie asks, trotting closer with the horse, ‘I saw you coming out. What’s that?’

  ‘Dunno,’ Blowers says holding it up to waggle about, ‘Meredith had it in her mouth.’

  Charlie squints and cocks her head over to one side before shooting a glance at Cookey and going bright red, ‘oh…’

  ‘What?’ Blowers asks, clocking the look to Cookey then staring at the thing in his grip.

  ‘I er,’ she coughs nervously, ‘I believe it hangs the other way.’

  ‘Eh?’ Blowers says, ‘hangs the other way?’

  ‘Er…sort of…well…I believe they er…well they rather dangle.’

  ‘Dangle?’ Blowers says.

  ‘Turn your hand over,’ Nick says, leaning closer.

  Blowers turns his hand over. The thing dangles and the connection is made by everyone else at the same time as the blood drains from Blowers face, ‘it’s a dick,’ he shouts with a yelp and flings it at Nick who screams and shies away.

  ‘Don’t fucking throw it at me,’ Nick says, jumping back as it lands with a wet thud on the floor.

  ‘Argh, it was in my hand,’ Blowers yacks, shaking his hand violently, ‘I touched a dick…’

  ‘Oh you are joking,’ Cookey rushes forward to stare down at the bloodied member, ‘no way…no actual way…’

  ‘I’m gonna puke,’ Blowers gasps holding his hand away from his body.

  ‘No. Actual. Fucking. Way,’ Cookey mutters, mesmerised by the penis on the tarmac.

  ‘Oh my god, oh my god,’ Blowers heaves and yacks while trying to lean away from his own hand.

  ‘It’s just a penis,’ Paula says.

  ‘Fuck,’ Cookey says slowly and I notice he first looks at Charlie then down at the penis then over at Blowers, ‘seriously…this is the actual best day ever.’

  ‘Someone wash my hand,’ Blowers whimpers, ‘Nick…wash my hand.’

  ‘Fuck off,’ Nick says backing away fearfully.

  ‘Mr Howie,’ Blowers says mournfully, turning towards me with his blood stained hand.

  ‘Piss right off,’ I back away laughing.

  ‘Mo? Anti-bac my hand, mate…’

  ‘You’s fucking gross,’ Mo recoils in disgust.

  ‘I could die happy now,’ Cookey sighs.

  ‘Please,’ Blowers shouts, ‘I can still feel it…someone anti-bac me…cut my hand off…’

  ‘Really,’ Cookey nods sincerely and looks up at Charlie again, ‘it doesn’t get any better than this.’

  ‘Dave,’ Blowers says, turning towards him, ‘cut it off…cut my hand off.’

  ‘I am not cutting your hand off, Simon,’ Dave says so seriously it sets me of laughing harder.

  ‘Dave, it was a dick. I was holding a dick.’

  ‘I saw that.’

  ‘Cookey saw it,’ Blowers says desperately, ‘shoot me then.’

  ‘I am not shooting you, Simon.’

  ‘You don’t understand, I had a dick in my hand and Cookey saw it.’

  ‘Dave, you should shoot him,’ Nick says.

  ‘It’s just a cock,’ Blinky says, bending down to pick it up, ‘what’s all the fuss?’

  ‘Don’t touch it!’ Nick shouts, jumping back again.

  ‘What this?’ Blinky asks, holding it out towards him.

  ‘Argh you dirty fucking bitch…’

  ‘Who wants it? Cookey?’

  ‘Give it
back to Blowers, he can keep it for later.’

  ‘Oh god it’s starting,’ Blowers says, ‘Dave, shoot Cookey.’

  ‘I am not shooting Alex.’

  ‘Ten million pounds to anyone who shoots Cookey…Clarence…wash my hand…’

  ‘Not a chance,’ Clarence says, chuckling like the rest of us at Blowers obvious misery.

  ‘You want it back?’ Blinky asks, walking towards him while flicking the floppy thing side to side.

  ‘Don’t you dare,’ Blowers stiffens and glares at her, straightening his back as he tries to stare her down.

  ‘But honestly,’ Cookey says again, his voice wistful, ‘I saw Charlie’s bum this morning and now this.’

  ‘Cookey!’ Charlie says in alarm.

  ‘You saw Charlie’s bum?’ Marcy asks in surprise, ‘when? How?’

  ‘That’s not important right now,’ Cookey says firmly, ‘what’s important is that Blowers was holding a penis in his hands.’

  ‘Hand. One hand. I held it in one hand and I didn’t know what it was.’

  ‘What’s important right now is that we all saw Blowers licking the dismembered willy.’

  ‘I fucking did not.’

  ‘On this day, in this place. I saw Blowers stroking and trying to lick a cut off willy and it was only when Blinky took it from him that he stopped,’ Cookey announces, ‘that’s what happened.’

  ‘It fucking didn’t,’ Blowers says.

  ‘Did in my head.’

  ‘Cookey, please…’ Blowers pleads, still holding his arm out.

  ‘Oh yes, in the darkest of days they shall tell this story of the day Simon Blowers found a willy on the...’

  A blur of black and Meredith, who was flicking her head side to side watching the willy being dangled about by Blinky makes her move and launches up with a quick snap of jaws that snatches the penis from her hands.

  ‘Oi,’ Blinky shouts, lunging after her, ‘give me my cock back.’ Meredith runs, holding her head high as she glances back to see Blinky coming at her and she darts on, applying a burst of speed through our legs.

  ‘Stop her,’ Paula shouts, lunging and missing.

  ‘Meredith!’ Marcy gets in front of the dog who twists and goes round her legs.

  ‘Nick,’ Paula shouts, ‘get your dog under control.’

  ‘She ain’t my dog,’ Nick says.

  ‘Mo, grab her,’ I shout as he dives with tears of laughter streaming down his face and misses as she scoots past him.

  ‘Ha!’ Clarence flashes a hand out with a presumption of victory that is snatched from his grip as she stops dead, turns and whips away, ‘bloody hell she’s quick.’

  ‘Stop that dog,’ Paula shouts, ‘no…Meredith NO…’ the dog spins, weaves and makes us all look slow as she plays escape and evade with a penis dangling from the side of her mouth.

  The dog runs off, sprinting a few metres with a blur of speed and comes to a stop as she spins and drops to the ground bringing her front paws together to grip the penis as she opens her mouth to pant and stare back at us looking for all the world like she’s grinning.

  We range out in a line. The living army seeing its prey. Dave central and slightly ahead as ever. Me on one side, Clarence on the other. Meredith’s tail wags slowly. We lower down, our eyes fixed. Her tail wags a bit faster.

  ‘Easy now,’ I whisper as the line edges forward.

  ‘Flanks,’ Clarence mutters.

  ‘On it,’ Nick starts going wide one side while Roy goes wide the other side, ready to encircle the dog who grips the willy between her paws and looks round with her tail now wagging faster.

  ‘Is everything okay?’ Reginald calls out from the side of Roy’s van, standing there watching with Kyle.

  ‘Shush,’ Marcy waves her hand at him as we encroach towards the dog.

  ‘Steady,’ I murmur, dropping lower while I gently push my rifle round to my back to free my hands.

  ‘Stop,’ Marcy whispers urgently as Meredith drops her head towards the penis and looks up at us, ‘no no no,’ she calls out softly, ‘don’t eat it…you don’t where it’s been’

  ‘Meredith,’ Cookey calls out just as softly, ‘can Blowers have his willy back now?’

  I sputter a laugh that ripples round the group and realise Blowers is still stood back by the vehicles squirting anti-bac over his right hand, ‘not funny,’ he grumbles.

  ‘Ooh,’ Clarence stops dead to stand upright.

  ‘Shit,’ I turn away from the awful sight.

  ‘Nasty’ Roy peels off, his hand going instinctively to his groin as she bites another inch off that she chews with loud squelchy noises of mastication.

  ‘Urgh,’ Nick grimaces, ‘she’s eating it.’

  ‘The dog’s eating your dick, Blowers,’ Cookey says, wincing as every man in the group closes his legs a bit tighter.

  We don’t stand a chance and we know it, and what’s more, Meredith knows it. She has the penis and she will eat it and the look in her eyes tell us there ain’t a damn thing we can do stop her. So we don’t. We stand back and grimace with winces as she bites and chews and swallows until the thing is gobbled down and she finally lifts her head looking smug and content.

  ‘Your dog is disgusting,’ I say to Nick as I turn away.

  ‘She’s not my dog,’ Nick says.

  ‘S’gross,’ Mo says, frowning at Nick as he heads back to the bus.

  ‘She’s not my bloody dog,’ Nick exclaims.

  ‘Ha,’ Blinky laughs, ‘your dog likes cock.’

  ‘Not my dog.’

  ‘Nick,’ Clarence says with a tut, ‘don’t let her do that again.’

  ‘She’s not my fucking dog!’

  ‘Shouldn’t be off a lead if you can’t control her,’ Blowers calls out now on his second bottle of anti-bac.

  ‘Er, you can all fuck off…she’s not my dog.’

  ‘Charlie doesn’t let her horse eat body parts,’ Paula joins in. ‘Anyway, have we finished dicking about? Get it? Dicking about?’

  ‘That was awful,’ I say with a shake of my head.

  ‘Pah, no sense of humour. Onwards then, Mr Howie. Lead the living army through this town of dismembered penises.’

  ‘One penis,’ Blowers shouts, picking his rifle up, ‘it was one and I didn’t know what it was.’

  ‘BLOWERS LICKED A CUT OFF WILLY,’ Cookey’s amplified voice informs everyone in the vicinity.

  ‘I’m quitting,’ Blowers says, ‘I’m giving my notice, Mr Howie.’

  ‘Speak to Miss Paula, she handles personnel issues.’

  ‘Resignation refused,’ Paula says.

  ‘DON’T DRINK THE WATER. THERE MIGHT BE WILLIES IN IT…’

  ‘Okay okay,’ Paula calls out, ‘game faces on, ready when you are, Howie.’

  Twenty Two

  ‘Mr Howie, it’s Charlie. There’s a blood trail on the ground running along the pavement to your right.’

  ‘Okay, Dave’s looking now…see anything, Dave?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Okay…what do you see, Dave?’

  ‘A blood trail, Mr Howie.’

  ‘Great, clears that up then.’

  ‘Three people. Two men and one woman going in the same direction as we are.’

  ‘Fuck me. You can tell them from a blood trail?’

  ‘No. There are footprints in the blood trail.’

  ‘Want me to hold off with the loudspeaker for a bit?’ Cookey asks through the radio.

  ‘Yeah for a minute, mate. Charlie, can you see where it goes?’

  ‘Will do.’

  She canters the horse further down the road while periodically leaning down to check the pavement. We’re only a few streets from the penis house and still in an estate agents wet dream of a residential heaven made from ubiquitous brick built houses with slate roofs and small gardens. It feels foreboding now. Like the houses are faces and the dark windows are eyes and the doors are mouths ready to open and spew the filthy infected at us. We’re getting closer to t
he town centre and the sense of unease grows.

  I glance back every few minutes to the others behind me. Cookey driving the Saxon to the left side of the road. The bus behind but in the middle and Roy’s van behind that but again staggered out with Kyle clear behind the windscreen. Blowers walks in front of the bus. Clarence by the door and I can see through the bus screen to the woman Jane passing a bottle of water out to him. Roy is off to the right, his bow held with an arrow nocked and ready. Everyone else is ranged out, encircling the bus. The tension is high and the more we do this the greater our discomfort grows at being in a built up area where every doorway, every alley, every window and corner holds a point of danger. Marcy and Paula walk side by side talking quietly while they scan and watch the sides and turn to see the back covered by Reginald monitoring the cameras.

  ‘People from the house?’ I ask quietly as Dave comes back to the middle of the road. He doesn’t answer but turns in a slow circle to take in every possible point of attack before thumbing the button under his shirt, ‘Mohammed, up front with Mr Howie.’

  ‘Coming.’

  ‘Dave, I don’t need Mo to protect me…’

  ‘I am training him, Mr Howie. This is a good training ground.’

  ‘Okay,’ I know better than to argue, especially when he’s got that tone of voice going on. Not that it differs from any other tone of voice he has but somehow it just feels different.

  ‘Mohammed,’ Dave says as Mo runs up to join us, ‘take the left side of Mr Howie…’

  ‘Really, Dave?’ I ask.

  ‘I am training Mohammed.’

  ‘Okay okay.’

  ‘Mohammed, ahead of us is twelve o’clock, our rear is six o’clock. Do you understand a clock face?’

  ‘Yep…I mean yes, Dave.’

  ‘You will cover from six o’clock to twelve o’clock. I will cover from twelve o’clock to six.’

  ‘So’s I’m covering the left then.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Got it.’

  ‘Charlie is ahead of us which we will take into account if we have to fire.’

  ‘Got it.’

  ‘Select single shot on your rifle and only fire if you have clear line of sight. Place your shots.’

  ‘Yep,’ Mo says, switching the firing position on his rifle, ‘I mean yes.’

  ‘We are prone to ambush in a situation such as this. There are many points of entry leading into our position. We must be aware of each point of entry.’