The Undead Day Nineteen

by Haywood, RR

  There was no choice but to sleep in the old armoury. The hole needed guarding and the people needed somewhere undercover and so necessity overcame choice. Once their bellies were filled with whatever food they could grab from the stores and any scrap of material found was used to dry bodies they trampled in to fall down and sleep. The smell didn’t bother them. Only that it was out of the rain and with so many bodies sharing space it soon heated up to dry even the most soaked of clothes.

  Lilly slept with her right hand holding the rifle with the barrel pointing towards the hole. Her left hand resting on Billy. Pea, Sam, Milly and Joan completed the line. The children prone, the adults sitting upright with backs to the walls. They all slept. There was no designated watch on. The fort is too big, too open plan and everyone was too exhausted to organise anything. So they took their chances and drifted into fitful sleep to get through the hours of darkness.

  It’s soothing though, the sound of the rain. The pitter patter of a billion tiny droplets of water striking the flat surface of the sea and the varying drumming noises as the rain falls on the flat surfaces outside. She shifts, her bladder full and sending signals to her brain that translates them into a feeling of being uncomfortable. She doesn’t move but waits. Listening and staring into nothing.

  She thought it would be different and she would wake up consumed with guilt at killing so many people and so brutally too. She thought she would spend the quiet hours weeping or seeing the faces of those she shot and executed. Instead she feels resolved to see it through. She started a chain of events and she was wrong if she thought it would be finished when the last one was killed. It wasn’t and it isn’t now. It’s still raining. The bodies are still out there. There are children and adults here that need shelter, clothing and bedding. The hole needs fixing. The police offices need cleaning to remove the bodies left to dry and congeal. What food do they have left? Is it enough? What about being armed? She can fire a weapon and so can Joan. Pea and Sam are both armed but they only learnt just enough to point and shoot. Lenski can probably handle a gun and Maddox definitely can but he’s in no state to do anything

  A chain of events. Solve one problem and get a dozen more. Do enough to give people food and shelter but they look to you for their ongoing safety and comfort. It never ends and nor will it ever end.

  So no. There isn’t time for guilt or grieving but just to get on with the job at hand and do the right thing for the right reasons.

  She eases herself up from the wall, taking care not to wake Billy but then remembering a nuclear bomb going off wouldn’t wake Billy when he was asleep.

  ‘Wha…what’s…’ Pea comes awake too quickly, her eyes wide and full of fear.

  ‘I’m just going for a wee,’ Lilly whispers.

  ‘Okay,’ Pea says, still staring with that shocked look especially reserved for those who go from deep sleep to wide awake in a split second, ‘you okay? What’s…I mean…want me to come?’

  ‘It’s fine,’ Lilly says, ‘I’ll be right back.’

  ‘Just piss outside,’ Sam mumbles sleepily.

  A lady does not piss outside. A lady does what it takes to preserve her dignity and acts with grace at all times. She steps out, checks the view and walks up a few metres to unzip her jeans and squats to relieve the fullness of her bladder while the rain once more soaks her hair and clothes.

  That today is her Sixteenth birthday only mildly registers. In her previous life there would have been a party, cake, music, dancing and laughing. She would have been given presents that marked the start of the transition from child to adult. In this new life she pisses on the ground with her bare arse poking out behind her as she tries to avoid getting wee on her shoes while holding an assault rifle out in front that acts as a counter weight so she doesn’t fall over. Thank God she didn’t need a poo. That would be an undignified start to the morning. There isn’t even a bush to poo in. Just open ground. Come to think of it, where will the people go to have a poo? Do they dig holes? Isn’t that what soldiers do? But then there are a lot of people here and those holes will soon add up.

  Hmmm, she looks over the fort to where the toilet block and visitor centre used to be. Now a flat expanse of concrete that hints at the foundations underneath. There were toilets in that section which must mean there are sewer pipes. It wouldn’t be that hard to fashion something over the holes. Like the old fashioned bench seats with a hole in them so they can poo down into the sewer pipes. What about flushing it away? Buckets of water will do that. Actually, sea water would do the job. They could just fetch it in from outside or maybe stretch one of the hosepipes over. That still leaves the issue of privacy. Nobody wants to be seen having a poo and reading the back of a can of air freshener. They will have to make wooden partition stalls or something.

  She looks round noticing how well the fort is coping with the deluge of rain coming down. Never in her fifteen, no sixteen years has she seen rain like this. A relentless unceasing down pouring of water from clouds hanging so low it’s almost as though she could reach up and touch them.

  She finally stands and sighs the contended sigh of someone who has just had the best wee ever. She could go back into the dry and wait for the others to wake up but the dawn is here now and there’s work to do.

  What first? The bodies on the beach need taking away but that will need people and the boats to be in use. The debris in the middle section between the two walls also needs taking away but again that needs people and the boats. There is a job that needs doing. The police offices need cleaning. It’ll be gruesome and disgusting but it’s her mess so she better get on with it.

  She heads down alongside the wall expecting to see the area where Liam and his crew were killed but the bodies are gone and the ground is washed clean by the rain that now shows no sign of the blood that was spilt here. Someone must have dragged them down the front or shoved them somewhere else. That’s a good sign. It means someone is taking responsibility for their own environment.

  A noise ahead. The sound of a voice but not talking. More like humming. Tuneless yet melodic. She slows down to listen and from instinct her right hand drops to the trigger guard on the rifle. The sound is coming from the police offices but only death should be in that room. She threw grenades in there that blew the bodies apart then executed anyone left alive. Who would be in there humming?

  At the door she looks at the wheelbarrow propped against the wall then peers through, blinks and steps in with her mouth dropping open.

  ‘Morning, Miss.’

  He stops and leans on the mop held between his gnarled hands as the smell of pine disinfectant wafts pleasantly into her nose. The walls gleam. Everything has been freshly scrubbed. The bodies gone and the pool of blood and bits of gore all washed away. He stretches his back and nods to the table pushed against the wall and the pan of water coming to the boil on top of the camping gas burner, ‘water’s ready.’

  She looks round again. The tables and chairs damaged in the blast have been taken out, and everything else has been stacked at one end making the rooms look much larger.

  ‘You did this?’ She asks, hardly believing the sight her eyes are taking in.

  ‘I said’s yesterday I did. The dead don’t bother me none, Miss. You wants to make an old man a cup of tea then while I finishes this last bit?’

  ‘Tea,’ she says, still in shock.

  ‘That’s right, Miss.’

  ‘I’ll make the tea…have…I say, I mean…’ She stops and stares as he goes back to swishing the mop head over the floor, ‘have you been here all night?’

  ‘I reckon I has,’ the old man replies, ‘you don’t’s sleep so well at my age…and I figured to myself that you’d be needing somewhere to work from this morning so Alf I said to myself, we’ll go on and get them rooms all cleared away.’

  ‘Alf?’

  ‘Yes, Miss. Alf.’

  ‘I’m Lilly.’

  He smiles up at her, ‘I knows your name, Miss. I thinks everyone here knows you
r name.’

  Too many things run through her head at one time and she holds still, processing and trying to clear the temporary cognitive traffic jam in her mind. ‘Tea,’ she says, ‘I shall make the tea.’

  ‘Ah that’ll be lovely, Miss. I put’s the deceased down on the beach out the front. We’ll be wanting to get them buried or disposed at sea afore to long, the living don’t like to see the dead you see. It worries ‘em it does.’

  ‘The wheelbarrow,’ Lilly says as the traffic jam starts to unclog.

  ‘That’s right. Found it in one of the rooms I did. My back ain’t got the strength it used to have so I used that barrow to get the deceased all down yonder.’

  She stands in front of the gas burner and looks across to see freshly cleaned mugs laid out face down with a box of tea bags, a bag of sugar, a jar of instant coffee and teaspoons all gleaming on the side.

  ‘I took them from the food stores. They had some condiments and such like in here but it weren’t fit for human consumption it weren’t so I cleaned it out. I didn’t know if there was a chitty to sign ‘em out on…couldn’t see one anyways.’

  ‘It’s fine,’ Lilly says and makes tea. A simplistic act of putting tea bags in mugs then pouring hot water in before dunking and swishing the bags about with a teaspoon. She’s making tea in clean rooms that smell of pine disinfectant. ‘Do you take sugar?’ She asks politely.

  ‘One please.

  ‘Strong or…’

  ‘As it comes. I drinks anything.’

  ‘Would you like milk? There’s none here but I could…’

  ‘Black be fine with me. There, I reckon that’ll just about do it.’ He stands back to inspect his work, ‘good enough for you is it?’

  ‘My word yes, yes it’s…I don’t know what to say.’

  He carries the mop and bucket to the door then walks slowly over to take the mug held out to him, ‘ah, nice cup of tea,’ he says with what appears to be genuine contentment, ‘can’t beat a nice cup of tea.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Lilly says with genuine feeling, ‘I was coming down to do this…I mean, it was my mess and…’

  ‘Ah,’ he says as if that answers everything then sips his tea.

  ‘Holy fuck,’ Sam walks in with Pea behind her. Both of them staring round in wonder at the sight of Lilly and Alf sipping hot tea in a room that should be covered in bodies and blood.

  ‘Mornin,’ Alf nods, ‘good timin’, water just boiled.’

  ‘Boiled,’ Pea says, her jaw slack.

  ‘Fuck,’ Sam says again.

  ‘Tea?’ Lilly asks.

  ‘Tea,’ Pea says.

  ‘Fuck,’ Sam says again.

  ‘Alf has kindly cleaned the rooms,’ Lilly says, turning back to get two more mugs ready, ‘tea or coffee?’

  ‘Coffee,’ they both reply at the same time.

  ‘Someone say coffee?’ Joan strides in looking remarkably awake for a seventy year old woman who slept leaning against a concrete wall. She takes in the room with the eyes of someone who has seen many things and nods approvingly. ‘Morning, Alf. Good job.’

  ‘Mornin’, Joan.’

  ‘Smells nice in here,’ Joan says, taking a big sniff, ‘bodies?’

  ‘Out the front.’

  ‘Mess was it?’ Joan asks, her voice brisk and clipped as she strides to the pan of water and assumes the command of making drinks.

  ‘None worse than I see before,’ Alf replies.

  ‘Alf, you give Sam a hand to get a table and chairs out,’ Joan says, ‘Lilly, you move up a bit my dear so I can make these drinks. Where’s the milk? Sam, the rifle has a sling for a reason. Put it on your back not on the floor. Pea, you run down and get the milk portions from the store room. We’ll have a civilised coffee before we start on this morning’s agenda.’

  Two simple acts and suddenly the bleakness of the immediate future is pushed away. An old man cleaning a room and an old woman brisk and forthright in manner. A table is pulled out and chairs to go with it. Milk portions are fetched and within a few minutes they sit down in a room filled with scents of pine and freshly made coffee.

  ‘Now,’ Joan says, lowering her mug from the first and very much appreciated sip of coffee, ‘what are we to do?’ She looks round at Lilly, Pea and Sam, ‘ladies?’

  Pea and Sam share a glance as all three look to Lilly, ‘Lilly?’ Pea asks.

  This was meant to be Lenski and Maddox with Lilly but neither of them are here and things need to be done. They all look tired. They all feel tired and Lilly bears the marks of the beatings she took yesterday but there is a fork in the road ahead and she looks to each path, wondering which to take.

  ‘We started this revolt,’ Joan says when no one else says anything, ‘or rather, Lilly did with exceptional execution I might add. To you, Lilly,’ Joan says lifting her coffee mug in salute.

  ‘Lilly,’ Pea says lifting her mug.

  ‘Lilly,’ Sam joins in.

  Lilly nods and lifts her mug as she takes in the way Joan said the word execution. Joan, in return observes the manner of the girl seated opposite her and nods knowingly to herself.

  ‘I will start by saying this,’ Joan announces with a pause to make sure they’re all listening, ‘what was done yesterday needed to be done to prevent a greater tragedy taking place and now we are here. Everyone will wake up soon and they will need direction and focus. Lilly? Where are Maddox and Lenski?’

  ‘In the hospital. Maddox came round for a few minutes last night…’

  ‘Christ,’ Sam cuts in, ‘does he know?’

  Lilly nods, ‘I told him, he knows.’

  ‘How did he take it?’ Pea asks.

  ‘I think he understood once I explained everything to him,’ she says carefully, ‘and I did tell him that if he harbours any desire for revenge then everyone here will ensure Mr Howie is told when they return.’

  ‘Ooh good move,’ Sam says with a tilt of her head.

  ‘Other than that he looked sick and weak,’ Lilly adds.

  ‘So ladies,’ Joan says, ‘it appears we are it.’

  ‘Looks that way,’ Pea says with a heavy sigh, ‘I wouldn’t know where to start though….Sam?’

  ‘God,’ Sam copies the sigh and stares down at her mug, ‘bodies I guess?’

  ‘What about the hole in the wall?’ Pea asks.

  ‘Or that,’ Sam says, lifting her mug of coffee.

  Lilly thinks. Her face a mask that betrays the fast motion of her mind that processes each strand of thought as she stares at the paths ahead. Which one to take? Which direction to go?

  Billy is the priority. His welfare comes before all else. After that is the welfare of every other child here, then the adults. To ensure Billy has the best chances there must be safety, security and welfare. His needs must be met with food, water and shelter. He must have clean clothes and bedding and he must have a feeling of being secure to encourage his mind to heal from the horrors they have all faced. Which path? Slip back and look to his immediate concerns and hope someone else makes the right decisions or commit now and make sure those decisions are the right ones.

  ‘Both,’ Lilly says choosing the path without realising until the words came out which direction that would be in, ‘we have to do both and more at the same time.’ She sits up straighter, taller and leans forward to rest her elbows on the table. ‘If I may I would like to suggest we do the following…’

  The three older women look at each other but none of them show any reaction to Lilly being drawn out to take the bait of the challenge in front of them. Lilly started this and around her it must now flow. Instead they listen and drink coffee as the plan, which they each knew had already been processed in her mind, is laid out in words.

  Twenty Nine

  We use winding country lanes that veer east then west but all the time south. The motorway would take us there quickly but Reginald has chosen a route that would we would not be expected to use. I drive the Saxon. Clarence drives the minibus and Roy is back in his van t
owing Jess’s horsebox trailer thing. We did try and get Jess loaded up for Charlie but the horse wasn’t having any of it and fucked about more than Cookey when he’s had too much sugar and it was only when Charlie got to her that she calmed down and walked meekly into the box. Horses are weird.

  When did we leave the fort? A couple of days ago? It feels like weeks, months even but then time is all fucked up now, magnified and moving faster or something. Either that or we just don’t have devotion to it we had in our previous lives and therefore the importance of it is slipping away.

  ‘What do you think it will be like?’ I ask Marcy.

  ‘What?’ She blinks from her own deep thoughts.

  ‘The fort.’

  ‘Oh, oh right…er…probably a big mess,’ she says and twists round to look down the back, ‘Nick, you nervous?’

  ‘Eh? What for?’ He asks.

  ‘Seeing Lilly again,’ she says.

  ‘Oh fuck…er well I wasn’t…’ He blurts and makes everyone chuckle.

  ‘You’ll be fine,’ Paula says, having chosen to travel with us to let Kyle ride with Roy and Reginald, ‘she’ll be thrilled to see you again.’

  ‘What’s the fort like then?’ Blinky asks, ‘is it big?’

  ‘It’s a fucking shitting death filled stink hole of wank,’ Blowers says.

  ‘Speak your mind, Blowers,’ Paula says.

  ‘Sorry but it is. Why are we even going back there?’

  ‘Survivors fucktard,’ Nick says.

  ‘So we dropping them off and going again yeah?’ Blowers asks, ‘drop and run…drop and fuck off…like we just leave the bus on the beach and go…’

  ‘Why’s that?’ Blinky asks.

  ‘Cos it’s shit,’ Blowers says, ‘And Maddox is a cunt…’

  ‘Simon,’ Paula tuts.

  ‘He is,’ Nick says.