An argument started inside the room then, with Bancroft telling his brother Caleb to shut his mouth. The youngest sibling sounded terrified and wanted out, and Jamie just berated him, reminding him Nate had killed Connor.
“Soldiers die in war,” Nate said through the door, sensing there was a chance to end this without further violence.
“Shut the fuck up! You shut the fuck up!”
This was getting nowhere, but I could sense Jamie was on the verge of losing it. We needed that anger at us, so he didn’t pull the trigger on little Charlie.
“Get ready,” I whispered to Nate. I love the fact that he didn’t question me, didn’t try to stop me. That trust makes you feel like a million dollars. He just nodded, the NVG’s still concealing the top half of his face. Settling the rifle into his shoulder in readiness, he nodded at me again.
“What made you this angry, Jamie?” I spat through the door, knowing my voice alone would send him over the edge. One extra insult would tip him. “Were you somehow conceived by anal sex? There’s no way being this much of an asshole is natural.”
A strangled cry of rage erupted from his throat and we both flattened against the wall, outside his angle of fire, as he blasted at the door again, shredding it with his dick-compensating hand-cannon.
With the gun no longer pointed at Charlie, Nate swept into view, rifle up, and squeezed off a round which punched through Jamie’s shoulder, spinning him to the ground as the gun fell from nerveless fingers. Then Jamie’s wife ran into the slight glow of a flashlight in the room, hands reaching for his gun as she screamed.
When that light hit her face, I almost laughed. The bitch had so much make-up on she must have had to apply it with a trowel. The light bounced off her thick clown mask, emphasising the mass of insane shades she had used. Honestly, her face looked as though it had been gangbanged by boxes of Crayola.
Nate wasn’t laughing though. As the screaming harridan with boulder-hard fake tits swept up the gun and started to turn, he didn’t hesitate, double-tapping her in the chest and head like a pro.
Both of us stepped through the shattered door into the room. Caleb, probably not even eighteen yet, had a Glock in his hands, desperately fumbling. He was making a complete mess of it, almost dropping it and re-catching it, trying to get a solid hold on the handgun, but making a complete tragedy of the whole situation. Frantically trying to handle the weapon, Caleb was as chaotic and confused as a monkey trying to fuck a football. It was a god-awful mess, and Nate gave him the best chance he could.
“Don’t do it kid,” he said at first, but Caleb didn’t hear him in his blind panic. “Please, Caleb, don’t make me do this!” There was a genuine pleading to Nate’s words, begging the boy to give it up.
Then the handgun steadied, the boy finally achieving a fierce grip in both hands. Caleb’s eyes, wild and unfocused, locked with Nate’s, stark terror etched into every atom of his beardless face.
“Don’t fucking do it!” bellowed Nate, but the gun started to rise. Nate screamed a curse as his bullet smashed into Caleb’s chest. “God damn it!” he roared, pain in every echo of his voice. “God damn you and your fucking stupidity!”
Nate had everyone get out of the room, shouldering the rifle and drawing his Glock as he and the downed Bancroft exchanged some words. The moment everyone was clear of the room, there was no further ceremony. Jamie started to say something else, but Nate silenced him with a single squeeze of the trigger.
And finally, we were free.
We cleared the rest of the house, switching the power back on so we could do it properly, moving the captives to a part of the house away from all the bodies. Nate stepped outside to put down Bert and Ernie for the second time to make the grounds safe, then returned to the group that we had moved into the kitchen, getting everyone a drink and anything sugary we could to ease any shock or fear. I think most thought they were swapping one captor for another to begin with, as Nate looked like a fucking death machine all in black with his tactical gear, black face paint, uplifted NVG’s, massive Crocodile Dundee knife, etc.
That all changed though when one of the captives sat peering at me. She was a black woman, mid-forties, dishevelled as hell, hair a tangled mess. I hadn’t really had a chance to really ‘see’ any of the captives, just trying to get them away from all the mess and make sure the kid Charlie was okay, when the woman spoke.
“Is that really you, Erin?”
Hearing my name snapped my head round, and I looked at the woman more closely. Her eyes were shining with tears and she looked so happy to see me.
“When Mark told us of you two and said your name, I didn’t really believe in my heart of hearts it was my Erin.”
And then the thunderbolt of recognition struck.
“Maria?”
She nodded, coughing a half-sob, half-laugh, then flew towards me, encircling me in a crushing embrace.
Maria Williams. Deano’s wife. The woman who had taken me in as if I was family, who between her and her policeman husband, had set me on the straight and narrow.
This obvious familiarity settled everyone right down as Maria and I had a tearful reunion. When Nate returned to find this scene unfolding before him, and then I introduced him to Maria and everyone else, the teary nurse crushed the old dog to her as well. It was awkward as hell, as Nate was dripping in gear and she couldn’t really get near him because of his tactical vest, but it still brought a smile to his war-painted face.
Maria looked me up and down again, noting the rifle slung round my shoulder, the Glock now strapped to my hip and the pick hammer sticking out my belt with dried sniper goop on the spike, and raised her eyebrows.
“You always find a way, Erin,” she said, laughing and shaking her head as she moved a loose lock of hair from my face. It was a weirdly comforting gesture, something she did all those years ago out of habit, and the familiarity of it warmed me. Despite my joy at finding her alive and well, there was still one burning question I had to ask.
“Dean?”
“I don’t know is the truth,” she said. “He was working the day it all started. I never heard from him, and he never came home.” She sighed. “If he is alive, I don’t know where he could be.”
I didn’t say it, but my heart broke. If Deano was alive, he would have fought through hell itself to get back to Maria. She was his absolute world, his safe little harbour in a stormy existence. Without children of their own, they were all each other had.
I put on a brave face, hugging her again, forcing myself away from the dark thoughts and just revelling in finding someone I genuinely cared about alive and well. Also, she’s a frickin’ nurse. Medical skills, yo.
The thought of Deano out there somewhere, among the mass of the undead, has ruined my victory mood a little. I think I’ll end this entry here and tomorrow I’ll introduce you to the new residents of our little community and bring you up to date with what we’ve been doing these few days since our victory.
But, Maria is alive and well, and for that I am so fucking grateful.
August 27th, 2010
NEW ARRIVALS
Okay, so after a day of resetting my emotions, allow me to introduce you to our new crew, my dear reader.
This name thing for my journal is really starting to bug me. I still need to sort that out, but I just can’t find anything that works. I could write it to Dean, but I’m not doing that while there’s still the chance he’s out there somewhere. Anyway, I digress.
So, you know Maria Williams is still alive. She’s a mid-forties black woman (I don’t think I mentioned in my first entries that she was black, but then, who gives a shit? We all bleed red.) As I’ve said before, she’s a nurse and has been for twenty years, so this woman knows her shit. Go past the fact that she’s the closest thing to family I have (from the “before times” at least, as Nate, Freya and Particles are my tribe now) her medical skills are absolutely amazing to have on board. She can tell us the kind of stuff Nate and I should look for that
are crucial to the health and wellbeing of the whole tribe now. I’m so happy she’s here, I can’t even describe it.
It was Maria’s day off when all the shit went down, which I’ve now confirmed was the 23rd June from everyone’s stories. Dean was on nights and called her to say he was doing some overtime because, “shit was getting really weird,” and it was an all-hands-on-deck scenario at the local station. That was the last she heard from him. I’m just so glad the last words they exchanged before the end of that call was, “I love you.” If they were Dean’s final words to her, then they’re the best ones for Maria to remember him by.
Remember early on that I said my phone was out of power? Maria tried calling me but just hit voicemail. She’s been thinking these past few months that I’d succumbed to the apocalypse as well. Makes me mad at myself for drifting away and losing touch with them, but you just get caught up in all your own shit, don’t you? You drift away from loved ones, forget to check in and just see how they are, let them know you’re okay.
I’m so glad we got to reconnect, but angry at myself that it took an apocalypse for me to realise just how important they both were to me.
Tell the people you care about you love them. Don’t say you haven’t got time; make the time. Human connection is all we have, it’s what makes us who we are, what makes life worth living. Money, possessions, status, your social media accounts; they’re all a steaming pile of shit that mean nothing in the long run. The greatest gift you can give any person is the gift of your time and attention. It’s a lesson I’ve been taught by the end of the world as we know it, so whoever you are reading this, make the fucking time. Those human connections are priceless treasures we should hold close.
Maria was inadvertently picked up by some of Bancroft’s men when she was forced to venture out a week after the world died and stood up again. For a moment, she thought she was saved from a pack of five monsters, only to realise the ones who saved her from the undead were the real monsters. She was certain she was going to be raped by the way they looked at her. Maria is a striking looking woman even in her mid-forties, and the shade of her skin is just exquisite, smooth and hardly lined by time.
She was smart though, thinking on her feet. Once the animals discovered she was a trained medical professional, they left her untouched and took her back to Jamie.
I’m relieved, I won’t lie. What those poor younger women had to endure was horrific, and I’m glad Maria was saved that awful fate. Bancroft was smart enough to recognise the value of a highly trained and experienced nurse, so she was off-limits, acting as the physician for his bunch of goons, and to treat some of the women used a little roughly by those animals.
Again, I won’t cry for them. If I could raise them up to kill them again myself I would, for what they put those women through. Savages.
We’ve already introduced Mark Reynolds to our tale. His son Charlie is the fucking bomb. He’s nine years old, witty as fuck for a kid his age, and absolutely drop dead gorgeous. Mark is white, in his late thirties, and his wife—who died when Charlie was a baby from breast cancer—was Kenyan. Charlie is the perfect blend of them both and has this glowing russet coloured skin, spectacular hazel coloured eyes, and a cheeky smile that lights up his whole face. Shit, when he’s older, the girls are going to swoon over him. Looks, charisma, intelligence, and humour? Form an orderly line, ladies.
Mark’s a clever guy who is just one of those old school types who can turn his hand to anything. Carpentry, construction, electrics, gas, plumbing; you name it, this guy does it. He’s the ultimate handyman and used these mad engineering skills to make his own hours to look after his boy. Bancroft was one of his clients and he was working at Jamie’s mansion the day the world went to shit. Bancroft wouldn’t let him go, but Mark put his foot down and said he wouldn’t do shit round the place while his boy was out there. Bancroft’s men went and swept up Charlie from the childminder, pretty much just ripping him away, then used the boy as his leverage. Shitbag move.
Still, they stayed together and they’re an absolute dream as a partnership. Mark’s a pretty funny guy and speaks to Charlie like he’s much older, because he’s such a smart kid. This brings the best out of him and I love watching them together. Charlie idolises his dad, and Mark loves every bone of that boy. Mark is the poster boy for awesome single fathers, and I’m so glad they’re still together.
Naturally, Charlie and Particles are now homeboys for life. The kid won’t leave the dog alone, and the little attention whore fucking loves it. I think Charlie is the first person that Particles hasn’t looked outraged at. I’m sure that dog has some aged human soul. He’s so in tune with the people around him at times it’s pretty freaky.
Next up is our mole on the inside during the Turd Mountain operation. Isaac Sadler is a tech nerd, a complete geek around computers and electronics. Self-employed, he set up the security system for Bancroft and when the world went to hell, Bancroft had him grabbed. Straight up kidnapped direct from his home.
You can tell Isaac is a funny guy, with an intelligent dry sarcasm punctuated by slightly goofy humour. He’s quite shy though, and every time Freya comes in the room, he looks like he’s about to have a panic attack, having no idea how to speak to her without falling to pieces. It’s sweet. He’s a bit dizzy with me as well, but I think is a bit more comfortable because (a) Freya is stupidly attractive and makes even straight women go a bit wobbly at the knee and (b) he can communicate with me because I can talk geek culture with him, like movies, TV shows, comics, fantasy novels, and all that jazz. It’s a comfort zone for him.
He’s a likable guy about my age, maybe a year or two older. I don’t know how much use his computer skills will be, but Nate seems pretty set on Isaac looking to hook up a security system like Bancroft around our perimeter. That would be pretty cool to be fair.
Next up, Norah Hardy.
This woman is the absolute dog’s bollocks. She’s a little over sixty, with that super matronly look that just tells you she’s got stories filled with bucketloads of sage advice and boundless wisdom. She was widowed two years before all this crap, the wife of the farmer that lived nearby to Bancroft’s home. Why did Bancroft’s animals not just murder this woman? Well, luckily for her, one of Bancroft’s men who actually had something resembling a brain, noticed the expansive herb and vegetable garden that Norah tended on her property. Recognising the value of those skills, she was brought back to Castle Bancroftstein to do the same.
Win for us. Norah’s already bringing Grace and Theo’s old garden back to life, and she does it with a smile on her face now. Turns out, this woman wouldn’t have been out of place in the frontier wild west. I mean, she can do everything. Sew, crochet, knit, makes clothes, knows how to can foods and make preserves, cooks, bakes, agriculture, animal husbandry… shit, the woman can even kill and butcher pigs, cows and chickens. The level of skill and knowledge this woman possesses absolutely boggles my mind. If there is one person you want for your post-apocalyptic homestead, Norah Hardy is queen. She’s like everybody’s grandma, constantly checking everyone is okay, well fed, warm enough, cool enough, have you had enough to drink, etc. I already love her to bits. I never had the experience of grandparents, but Norah makes me feel like I’ve got a grandma now. She absolutely adores Charlie as well, spoiling him like he was her own grandson, constantly getting hugs off the little dude. Charlie clearly adores her as well, but then, who wouldn’t? She’s freaking amazing.
So, there’s all the positives. Mark, Charlie, Isaac, Maria, and Norah. All happy as pigs in shit now their slave labour is done. They all have a shared experience as well, a tight bond from enduring the past couple of months and finding strength and comfort in each other.
It’s not the same for Alicia and Laura.
Alicia Grey and Laura Mayfield are both early twenties, good looking girls without a care in the pre-apocalypse world. Not so much anymore.
I’m not going to dwell on what they’ve been through. These two had to
endure being sex slaves for two months, then had the terror of watching ten of their group be dragged outside and executed by Bancroft, wondering if they’re next. Jesus, what an ordeal on every level from beginning to end.
They seem to have gone in different directions emotionally. Alicia is a brunette, Laura a blonde, and they’re just as opposite in how they’re handling this new change. Alicia, in my opinion, is making herself hard and cold, surrounding herself in emotional armour to crush the trauma by forging herself into a warrior. She keeps banging on at Nate, wanting firearms and self-defence training, determined to never let herself or anyone else suffer what she and Laura have survived. Nate understands, but he’s said it’s too early, confiding in private to me that he won’t train anyone with that much fury in them as it will make her reckless.
I can see both their arguments, supporting both points of view, which leaves me in a really difficult position. Nate is the best person to judge if someone is in the right frame of mind for weapons training; earning his trust, however, is a difficult thing. Freya and I have it, but we’ve been together a little while and Nate and I have been in the trenches. I’m a complete dickhead at times who frustrates him, but the old dog knows that when the shit hits the fan, I am one hundred percent at his back and will go where he points if it gets the job done. Alicia doesn’t have that trust yet, and Nate will want to feel the situation out a little more before he makes a decision.
From her point of view, hell yeah. If I’d been through what she has, I’d want all the fucking guns, but if I’m honest, I know I would be reckless as shit. As much as I empathise with Alicia’s need to do something, I think Nate is right for now. Alicia needs to settle in, show a little patience, get comfortable with everyone, then Nate might think about it. We can’t live forever with just Nate and I being our only shooters (and I’m still a rank amateur), and we’re actually pretty fat on weapons and ammo now after clearing out Bancroft’s armoury. It’ll come, but it’s too early.
Lockey vs. the Apocalypse | Book 1 | No More Heroes [Adrian's Undead Diary Novel] Page 25