“She did what?” Sally exclaimed as Sam moved back past her. He would get a better view from upstairs. She followed him, up the stairs and into the guest room. They both peered out of the window, staring out onto the street.
Chloe had started the car. The zombies were about one hundred yards away and had become more animated and maybe a little faster since spotting her.
Sam and Sally stared in silence as Chloe performed an impressively quick turn in the road and drove at speed towards the herd. At the last minute, she swung to the right and mounted the kerb.
Most of the infected were in the road, but the pavement was not empty. She clipped one with the wing mirror, it stumbled, then fell off the kerb, landing face down. Apparently, zombies weren’t smart enough to use their hands to break their fall.
Other infected trampled over the fallen zombie, causing them to fall, and soon there were half a dozen zombies, piled up on the side of the road. Chloe carried on going, hitting a couple of the things heads on. They fell beneath the wheels, but she didn’t stop. Sam and Sally continued to stare down until the Audi disappeared around the corner. They heard a distant honking of a horn, and, as one, the massive group of zombies turned and started walking in the direction that the car had taken.
“How could you let her do that?” Sally asked Sam accusingly.
“I didn’t, I even offered to go instead, but she wouldn’t let me,” Sam protested, holding his hands up, as though surrendering. “We should go once the street is clear, I promised … I promised her that I would keep you safe.”
Sally backed down immediately, she had known Chloe for long enough to understand why she would take such a risk to protect her. It did make sense for Sam to stay with them, as he knew how to use the shotgun.
“Okay,” she sighed. “We best go tell the others.”
Sam followed her out of the room, but Sally paused at the top of the stairs and turned to him. “Lex’s parents?” she asks.
“Mum in there,” he nodded to the master bedroom. “Dad in the kitchen.”
As he spoke a howl of pain came from below them.
“Shit,” Sam said, running down the stairs, taking two at a time.
The sound of sobbing came from the kitchen.
“I guess she found her dad,” Sally whispered to him.
He nodded grimly as he walked into the room. Lex was hugging her father, crying hysterically. Claire was standing by her, trying to extract her friend from the corpse.
“What happened?” Lex moaned.
“I … well … we … me and Chloe, see. We thought that your mum bit your dad, then your dad killed your mum, then himself,” Sam explained nervously.
“Jesus, Sam,” Sally hissed, “tactful.”
Sam looked down at his shoes and shrugged his shoulders, maybe his choice of words was not the best. “I’m so sorry, Lex,” he mumbled. “What your dad did was very brave. He must have known you’d come back here and didn’t want to put you in danger.”
Lex looked over at him, “Yeah, maybe you’re right,” she said through the tears. “That sounds like my dad, he’s such a worrier… was such a worrier,” She corrected herself. Almost choking on the words. She stepped away from her dad and straightened her back, “I’d like to go and see my mum now.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Lex,” Sam said, trying to be more tactful this time. He adds. “She’s not your mum anymore. Your mum is in heaven.”
Lex snorted, “Heaven?” she said. “Do you believe in that religious tripe?”
“Well … no … but … it’s what people say, ain’t it? It’s what people said to me… you know, when...” his words trailed off.
Lex nodded. Claire looked questioningly at Sally, who responded with a shrug. Neither knew what Sam was referring to.
“Sam,” Lex said firmly. “I would like to see my mum now, please. I know it will be horrible. But I need to say goodbye.”
“Okay,” he said, holding out his hand, “Come with me.”
He led her upstairs and to the master bedroom. “Wait here a sec,” he said and quickly went over to the body and closed the eyes. “Okay, come in.”
Lex stepped slowly into the room and let out a gasp. Her mother looked peaceful. Spotting the photograph in her hands, she picked it up. The tears began to flow as she looked at the picture of them taken last year.
It had been a lovely day. She remembered the sun had been shining and they had decided to have an impromptu picnic. They had settled by a stream, and after they’d eaten, they had paddled in the cooling water. Her dad had sat the camera on a log and set the timer. She smiled when she remembered the failed attempts at taking the picture.
A photo album downstairs held some pictures of her dad’s behind, as he had dashed back to Lex and her mum, but not quite making it in time before the camera went off.
She held the picture up to show Sam, but noticed writing on the back. It was her dad’s handwriting, but it looked hurried and shaky, not his usual neat style.
Alexis, we’re sorry. Remember that we love you and always accepted you for who you are. Stay strong xxx
She gasped, “They must have known,” Her eyes flood with tears again, but her mouth transforms into a watery smile. “Can you leave me here for a few minutes, please?”
He nodded and stepped out of the room, “Take all the time you need,” he said as he quietly pulled the door closed behind him.
Twenty-One
Fuck, fuck, fuck. This is a bad idea.
A very fucking bad idea. There are hundreds of those things. Heading towards me. All I am protected by is a hunk of tin and some windows. The glass kind. The kind that breaks.
I take a deep breath as I quickly rearrange the seat so I can reach the pedals. I briefly consider reversing into the pack that is coming towards me, but dismiss the thought instantly. I can get more momentum going forwards. So I need to turn around. Looking up at the house, I can see Sam and Sally watching me from an upstairs window, staring down at me. I can’t make out their features, but I’ll bet they’re worried. If this plan fails I will die, but so will they. My death will just come a little sooner.
I spin the car around. Fortunately, the cul-de-sac has a nice wide space to turn, so I don’t make a mess of the three point turn I perform. Now facing the zombies heading towards me, grateful for my forethought to take the more solid Audi with its four-wheel drive, I reconsider my options. I could plough straight through them, but I don’t think the car, big as it is, will be able to knock them all down, and I could get stuck. The left side of the pack is a little thinner, but a car is parked on the edge of a driveway, which will force me back into the group. I’ll have to try to pass them on the right.
This is a really stupid idea.
I speed up as I drive towards them, taking care to stay in the centre of the road. I don’t want to draw any more of them over to the right-hand side.
When I’m inches away from impact, I swerve to the right and mount the kerb.
I feel the car clip one of them, presumably with the wing mirror, and seconds later there is a thud as I run one over. I probably should open my eyes now.
I open my eyes.
Shit.
There are so many.
They are all turned towards me, their inky black eyes open wide, their faces otherwise expressionless. Hands reach towards me, but the momentum of them lunging at the car is knocking some of them off their feet. The ones that fall are then trampled on by others, all too eager to have me for tonight’s chef’s special. A feeling of claustrophobia starts to grip me and with it, the certainty that my death is imminent.
Well, fuck them. If I’m going to die it will be on another street. Not this one. I need to get them away from here.
I stamp my foot harder on the accelerator and scream, “Fuck you,” as I weave in and out, trying to avoid as many as possible. I don’t count how many of them I hit with the car, but within a couple of minutes, I’m through.
There are still some stragglers
in front. Some late to the party, others so injured that they’re either hobbling slowly on broken legs or crawling towards me.
A look in the rear-view mirror confirms that the pack are still heading towards me. Good. I slow down so they can catch up. I purposefully drive over the crawlers, destroying what is left of their bodies. The end of the street is just metres away, so I beep my horn to let the others know that I have made it out.
Now I need to decide which way to go. Shit. Should have discussed this with Sam. There’s no point leading them in the direction that Sam will take the girls, because that means that they’ll bump into them eventually. What if Sam and the girls think I would have gone that way, so they go in the other direction.
Right, if we make it to George’s house we are going to get much better at planning. Weighing up the two options, I decide it is better to head away from George’s and hope the others come to the conclusion that this is the way I’ve gone. When I’m far enough away I’ll speed up, lose the zombies chasing me and I can be on my merry way.
~
God, this is slow going. I’ve been driving for about an hour, but the car is telling me that I’ve only gone a little over four miles.
I’ve been driving slowly, and every now and then I’ve stopped to let the zombies catch up. I found that beeping the horn excites them, and they do speed up a little, but they are still painfully slow, at least in comparison to the car.
I’m on a country road, surrounded by thickets. I’m sure the sound of the car horn is travelling for miles across the still and silent ground, therefore attracting more to join this horde.
I’m confident that they will not be able to come at me from the sides, the bushes are just too thick. Hopefully, I’ll be away from this narrow lane before any get on to this road facing towards me.
I carry on my Pied Piper of Oxfordshire routine until I reach a crossroad. Going right will take me towards George’s, left will take me further away. The car is now telling me that I’ve nearly gone six miles. I think it’s time to lose my groupies.
I take the right turn and then speed away, reaching the first bend that will hide me from sight.
My body relaxes, and I allow myself a small smile. The plan was crazy and stupid. So much could have gone wrong. But I am away and free. I can get to George’s in less than an hour from there.
The smile evaporates as I hear a massive bang, and the car skids to the right. I fight the steering wheel to try and control the skid, but it’s a losing battle and the car ends up head first in a small ditch.
My head is thrown forward, but the airbag doesn’t go off. Shaking slightly, I get out of the car. The front tyre has been destroyed, it must have been damaged when I was running over the infected, and the sudden change of speed and the sharp corner I had just taken must have caused it to blow.
Great. I’m in the middle of nowhere, no food, no water, and just a table leg for protection. Awesome. Well done on the planning. Truly this was a splendid idea. Oh, and let’s not forget the massive crowd of zombies that are behind me. Any hopes I had of losing them at the crossroads have gone, the sound of the tyre blowing out, combined with the noise of the car crashing, will tell them exactly where I am.
Even if I had any idea how to change a tyre, I don’t think I could get the car out of the ditch on my own, so my only option is to walk until I find another car. No point bitching about it.
I set off, the road is still narrow and stretches out ahead of me. Ten minutes of walking and the end of the road doesn’t seem to have got any closer. I trudge on. While I know I have no option but to carry on, it doesn’t mean I am happy about it. What I wouldn’t give for my MP3 player right now.
Even if my phone had any charge left, I don’t have any headphones. Blaring out music right now would just be another bad idea to add to the growing list of today’s bad ideas.
A glance behind me shows that the zombies are still on my trail. They don’t seem to be gaining on me, but equally, I am not losing them. It’s okay for the moment, but I don’t know how far I’m going to have to walk, and I will eventually get tired and slow down, but will they? I don’t think so.
The thought of a horde of bloodthirsty zombies catching up with me and tearing me limb from limb is enough to spur me on. I speed up until I’m almost jogging.
I get out of breath quickly, such is my poor level of fitness, so I slow down to a fast walk. The pounding of tarmac on my feet is already making them feel sore, and I don’t think I’ve walked a mile yet. I really hope I find a town or a village or even an abandoned car soon.
I plod on for an hour, my feet growing steadily more painful with each step. The heels and balls of my feet are starting to burn, and I suspect blisters are already forming. I don’t have time to stop, because it looks like some of the faster zombies are catching up with me. My pace has definitely slowed. What I wouldn’t give for my walking boots right now.
Ah crap, now I have a song in my head, I only know one line, and it’s spinning round and round in my mind.
Oh well, might as well join in, “These Boots Were Made For Walking,” I sing quietly to myself. Replacing the words I don’t know with, “dum, de da da dum,”
Strange as it is, it does help a bit. It lets me think about something else instead of the long road ahead.
That gets me thinking about other walking songs, and I move on to “Break My Stride,” then realise I only know one line of that song as well.
Next up is “Ain’t No Mountain High Enough,” I remember much more of this one, but once I get to the chorus, I let the song trail off. Not because I’ve forgotten it, but because it reminds me of Steve. It had come on the radio when we were driving somewhere a few months ago. I’d sung it at the top of my lungs to Steve, who was driving at the time and trying not to laugh at my woefully inadequate singing voice. In the end, he had given in and joined in with me, and by the end of the song we were both in fits of giggles. Every time it has come on since, we both start singing loudly, and purposefully even more out of tune.
I push Steve to the back of my mind, I can’t think about him right now. Instead, I rack my brains for other walking songs and struggle to come up with any, until, ah ha … “I Would Walk 500 Miles,” How very apt, it feels like I’ve already covered half that distance. “Dah dah, dah, dah, Bud, da dum, diddy dum, diddy dum …”
I start shouting the chorus out, throwing my arms, including the table leg up in the air. Giggling to myself, I forget that I’m fleeing from a horde of zombies and shout out the words to rest of the song.
A groan behind me brings me back to reality quickly.
Shit.
I turn around and see the horde are close and I mean really close. If I stop walking, they would be on me within minutes. I must have slowed my pace as I sang. Or perhaps they speeded up, not only wanting to kill me for dinner, but also to get me to stop sounding like a cat being strangled.
I stop singing and start running as fast as I can. I am soon panting, but the sheer terror of how close they are means I carry on, despite the pain in my feet and lungs. I’m suddenly grateful that I’m not wearing my walking boots. At least my trainers are light enough to run in.
I run flat out for about ten minutes before my body physically will not let me carry on anymore. I come to a stop, my head dropped as I pant, trying to get the air back in my lungs.
I’ve made some distance away from those things, but they are still too close for comfort. I know I can’t sustain a running pace, but I do need to move quickly. I start walking again, as fast as I possibly can without actually running.
I watch the road ahead of me, neither looking up or back. After half an hour, I decide that I must have put some good distance between myself and the infected, so I turn around.
They’re still coming, but it will take them a long time to catch back up to me, as long as I keep this pace going. Turning back around, I look up and see a sight so joyous that I whoop with happiness.
A house. Usually a si
gn that a town or village is nearby. Although there are bound to be more zombies, but hopefully they won’t all be gathered in one place like my horde is.
My horde… the horde that has been relentless in chasing me, as I’ve led them away from Sam and the girls. Led them away and straight into another town or village. A town or a village where there are likely to be survivors. A town or a village that will very shortly be overrun.
I quicken my pace to a slow jog, because I need to get as far ahead of the horde as possible so I can warn anyone I see. Within minutes I see more houses. I slow down again, looking for signs of survivors. I do not see anyone.
It’s only a small village, with few amenities, a garage, a shop and a church. There are probably fewer than fifty houses here. I head towards the shop, realising how hungry and thirsty I am.
There’s a sign hanging on the door, saying that it’s closed. It has one of those plastic clocks, on which the hands point to two ‘o’ clock. I try the handle and the door swings open. If it was closed when this all kicked off, then how come the door is unlocked?
The answer greets me as soon as I step inside. The place has been looted, the shelves mostly bare. The only food left is a few packs of chewing gum and Marmite. I guess this village sits on the hate side of the Marmite fence. Not me, I love it, but I don’t think I could stomach it without bread or crackers.
A couple of bottles of energy drink are still in the chiller cabinets. I take one and drink it down quickly.
The sickly-sweet syrup quenches my thirst and gives me an instant boost of energy, but it’s not enough to appease the growing hunger that is gnawing at my stomach.
I walk around behind the tills and check for any food hidden on the shelves that sit hidden behind the counter. There isn’t any, but there’s a door leading out back that is closed. It has a sign saying Private: Staff Only. Maybe it leads to a stock room.
I try the handle. Locked. It doesn’t look or feel like a heavy door, so I give the bottom a little kick to see if it gives. It moves a little, so I figure it only has the one central lock on the handle. I step back and give a harder kick to the middle. The door wobbles a little but stays closed.
Safe Zone (Book 1): The Greater Good Page 18