I step back a few paces, figuring momentum might help. I run up and launch myself at the door. It opens. Not because I am strong enough to kick through the lock but because there is someone on the other side.
I do not stop myself in time, and I accidentally kick an old woman in the stomach. She crumples in two and falls to the floor.
“Oh, my God, I’m sorry,” I say as I rush over to check to see if she is okay. ‘I didn’t realise anyone was here.’
“So you decided to kick the door down rather than knock?” She asks pointedly, taking the hand I offer to pull her back to her feet.
“I’m sorry, I just figured that it was empty, you know with the shop being looted …” I trail off, realising my excuse was rather poor.
“Looted?” she asks, moving me to one side and peering over my shoulder. Then laughs. “My shop has not been looted, dear.”
“It hasn’t?” I too look back into the shop. It certainly looks like someone has helped themselves to everything.
“No, as soon as I heard about this nasty bug, I decided to move all of the stock into my house. I didn’t want those young thugs coming here and using a bad flu as an excuse to damage my shop.” She chuckles.
“I even left a few things lying around, so it looked like it had been looted.”
“So basically, you looted your own shop?” I ask incredulously.
“Haha, yes, I suppose when you look at it like that, I guess I did. I even left the front door open on purpose, just to add to the effect.” She beams up at me with pride.
“Erm, well it worked,” I say, “Is your stomach okay?”
“It’s fine. I might look old and frail, but I’ve taken harder kicks than that, dear. You just caught me off guard, that’s all.” She smiles at me reassuringly.
Harder kicks that that, who goes around kicking old women? Other than me of course. “What do you mean you’ve taken harder kicks that that?” I ask her, confused.
“In Taekwondo, I go on a Wednesday night, and I can tell you that Doris, from number ten, gives an almighty good kick. Knocked my dentures out once, she did.”
“You go to Taekwondo classes?” I am beginning to think that this little old lady might be a touch senile.
“Oh, yes dear, they do them at the village hall every week. Henry never wanted me to go, but when he passed last year, I said to myself, Edna, you can’t sit around moping, you need to try new things.’ So I signed up for Taekwondo and Zumba.”
“Zumba?” Have I stepped into a parallel universe? The thought of this little old lady shaking her assets in time to music makes me laugh old loud.
“Something funny dear?” she asks, glaring at me.
“No… No, sorry, it’s just I didn’t realise they did classes for… er… well.” I realise that I’m about to call her old, which she clearly is but it is still a bit rude and disrespectful.
“Old fogies?” she prompts, “Cotton heads?”
“No… erm… Seniors,” I say, relieved the word has come to me.
“It’s okay, dear. I know what I am. But they do say, life begins at eighty!”
Do they? I wonder, then realise what she has just said, “You’re eighty?” I ask, shocked. I thought she was old, but not quite that old.
“Eighty-two last week,” she beams at me.
“Wow, you look amazing. I wouldn’t have put you a day over seventy,” I tell her.
Her smile grows wider, “Would you like a cup of tea, dear?” she offers, moving back into the room that I thought was a store cupboard.
It’s actually the entrance hall to her house.
“Oh God, yes, a cuppa would be great,” I say, before realising where I am. “No wait, hang on, we can’t stay here.”
“Why ever not?” She asks.
“There is a massive horde of zombies heading this way, we should leave, find somewhere safe.” The panic rises in my voice.
“Safe?” she questions calmly. “I’ve lived in this house for sixty-one years. Ever since I married Henry, and I’ll be damned if a couple of people with the flu are going to scare me away from it now.”
“A couple of people? Flu?” What is she talking about? “Edna,” I say in a calmer tone than I am feeling. “Do you know how bad it is out there? The people that caught the flu are rising from the dead and eating each other. Hundreds of them have just chased me from Botley.”
“Poppycock.” she replies smartly, “You young people, you’ll believe anything they tell you. That’s why I don’t pay any attention to the papers.”
The feeling that maybe Edna is a little bit senile is getting stronger, but regardless, we are in danger here.
“Edna, please, believe me, I’ve seen them eat people.”
“Have you?” she asks, still apparently unconcerned.
I think back over the last few days, “Well, no, only on TV, but they have chased me, and well they look… erm… hungry,” I finish weakly.
“Okay, dear,” she pats me soothingly on the arm, as though I am the one that is senile.
Taking my elbow, she guides me through the hallway into a cosy lounge and points me towards the sofa. “You stay here, dear, I’ll go and make a nice cup of tea, and you can tell me all about it.”
I sit down dumbly. I’ve not actually seen anyone being eaten. I can’t remember Sally telling me she had either. Could it be that these aren’t zombies, that they are just ill? Oh, my God, I’ve killed some of them, what if they are just innocent people who just have the flu?
Sitting here in this cosy lounge, the walls adorned with pink flowery wallpaper, the two-seater sofa a dark green that complements the curtains. The open fire, stacked with logs ready for winter. Everything feels so normal. So safe.
Edna walks back into the room holding a tray which she places gently down on the table in front of me. The tray holds a teapot, milk jug and matching cups and saucers. It also has a plate of delicious looking biscuits, and my stomach growls at the sight.
“Are you hungry, dear?” she asks, smiling down at me.
“I’m starving,” I confess, “I haven’t eaten since this morning and … well, it’s been a long day.”
“Help yourself to the biscuits,” she says, still smiling as she pours the tea into the two cups and hands me one of them. I take it and add milk, placing two chocolate digestives on the saucer. I devour them and look longingly at the remaining biscuits. I don’t want to appear greedy, but I am so hungry, so I take two bourbon creams.
“So, tell me about your zombies,” Edna says. I have a mouthful of biscuit and chew quickly before swallowing.
“It started on Monday …” I begin, then I explain everything that has happened since then, Steve leaving, the woman at the supermarket. When I get to the fight at the airport this morning, Edna gasps. When I finish, she stares at me, seemingly lost for words.
“So there is a horde of zombies heading towards here?” She eventually asks.
“Mmm,’ I nod, my mouth full of tea.
“But we don’t know if these so-called zombies actually hurt anyone or if they are just very sick?”
“Only what I’ve seen in the news,” I say, ‘Edna, I know this seems farfetched, but the way they lunge at people …” A memory of the conversation I had with Sally at the airport flits into my mind. “Paige,” I exclaim, as though the name solves everything.
“What page?” Edna is looking at me as though I am insane.
“Not what, who,” I explain, “Paige is a friend of Sally's, or rather she was, she was in the quarantine camp at Heathrow. Someone in there turned into one of those things and bit her.”
“Did you see it happen?” Edna asks.
“Well, no, Sally told me last night,” I reply.
“Was Sally there at the time?” Edna presses.
“No, her friends Claire and Lex were though. They saw it happen,” I say.
“I see,” Edna nods slowly, and I get the sense that she still doesn’t believe me. A knot of anger starts to bubble away in
me. I know what I have seen, but I just can’t bring myself to shout at a little old lady.
Taking a deep breath, I say more calmly than I am feeling, “Edna, regardless of whether these things want to bite people or not, there are hundreds of them heading this way and your front door is unlocked.”
“Hmm, yes, I can see why that would be a problem,” she nods slowly and takes another sip of her tea. She doesn’t make any attempt to move.
I put my teacup back on the table and stand up. “Shall I go and lock the door?” I ask, not waiting for an answer I head back out to the shop and to the front door.
I look out at the road, it is full of those things, but they are all facing forwards, continuing their steady trudge up the road.
Trying to keep to the shadows I flick the latch on the door and wince at the noise it makes in the quiet room. Looking back outside, the horde does not seem to have noticed. I quietly creep back to the house, shutting and turning the key to lock the door behind me. Returning to the living room, I see that Edna has poured me another cup of tea.
“Is it okay out there?” she asks.
“They are out there, but they’re carrying on straight up the road. We should be fine. As soon as they’ve gone, I’ll leave you in peace,” I say, picking the tea cup back up.
“You can stay here for as long as you want, dear.” Edna offers, and I am touched by the generosity of this stranger. Especially considering I’ve kicked her, knocked her over and then acted like I should be locked up in an institute.
“Thank you, that’s very kind,” I say, then yawn. “Sorry, it’s been a long day.”
“That’s okay, I expect you will be exhausted, walking all that way.”
“Yep,” I nod. Then changing the subject, I ask her if she has any family that she is worried about.
“No,” she states bluntly, “I have a daughter, Kate, but she moved to Australia. We don’t talk anymore.”
“Oh,” I reply, feeling uncomfortable. “That’s a shame,” I cringe, regretting starting the topic.
Edna looks at me, sadness flickers across her face, “Yes, an unfortunate sequence of events…”
As she talks, I make the requisite noises to show I am listening, but I feel my head begin to nod. Here in the relative safety and comfort, I feel more relaxed that I have in days, and the soothing tones of her voice are acting like a lullaby.
“Are you okay, dear?” Edna asks, startling me.
“Oh gosh, I’m so sorry. I’m just so tired.”
“I have a guest room upstairs if you want to take a little nap.”
I consider her offer. I need to leave and find the others. I also need to be alert. It is dangerous out there. Being delayed compared to being dead makes the decision very easy.
“Thank you, if that’s okay with you, I’d really like that.”
She nods happily, “I’ll show you the way, dear.”
I follow her back into the hallway, my hips bump a small side table as I pass. A vase full of wilting roses wobbles precariously, and I grab it to stop it from falling.
“Sorry.”
She carries on slowly up the stairs, “Don’t worry dear, that table is wonky, I’ve been meaning to get it fixed.”
I place the vase back on the table and hurry up behind her. She leads me through a door to a small room. The only furniture is a single bed and a small side table.
“Take as long as you need, dear,” Edna says and backs out of the room, leaving me alone. The bed looks old, but it’s stacked with cushions and is covered by a thick duvet. It looks so comfortable and inviting. I undress, and within moments of lying down, I am asleep.
~
The room is dark when I wake. Noises downstairs have pulled me out of a deep sleep. Disorientated, I wonder where I am and where all the commotion is coming from. I sit bolt upright. Edna. I can hear muffled shouts and something else that my sleep-befuddled mind has yet to recognise.
I step closer to the door and open it slightly. That other sound becomes clearer and sends a chill down my spine. Groans. Those oh so familiar groans that can only come from a bunch of bloodthirsty zombies.
I can make out Edna’s voice above the noise of the undead. She seems to be pleading with someone, Doris. Begging her to stop. Then I hear her yell.
“Chloe, if you can hear me, don’t come down. Don’t say a word.” I hear a thud of a body hitting the floor, which I assume to be Edna, but then she continues. “Doris has gone mad. I think she might have that flu.” Another thud and then the smashing of glass.
I open the door wider and quietly creep across the landing to the top of the stairs. My view is restricted, and I can’t see Edna, but I can see that the hallway is crowded with people.
Not people. Zombies.
Hopefully, Edna gets into one of the downstairs rooms, then she can block herself in until they get distracted.
A scream interrupts my thoughts, and I instinctively take a step back from the top of the stairs. I want to go to her, to help. But the pain contained within a shrill cry tells me that it’s too late. I swallow a sob and return quickly to the guest room and shut the door. Sinking to the floor, I lean my back against the door and hold my head in my hands. Trying to block the noise from downstairs. It doesn’t work, but Edna’s scream suddenly cuts off, and all I’m left with is that damned inhuman moan.
My body is tense, and I push my weight against the door. I don’t think they saw me when I was at the top of the stairs, but did they hear me close the door? Can they smell me?
It’s so dark in this room, I can barely see a thing. I’m not scared of the dark, but it does seem to amplify sound, and knowing that those things are so close terrifies me. The tears flow freely, and a feeling of hysteria envelops me. I need to calm myself down. To stop myself from crying out loud.
I try to go to my happy place. My memories of Steve and me, our first date where we went bowling, and he tried to cover up his frustration at losing to me. Our first holiday together in the sun. The memories serve to calm me, but my thoughts soon turn to the day he left. and everything that has happened since. The hysteria turns to self-pity, and for hours I wallow in my own personal hell until eventually, sleep, once again claims me.
Twenty-Two
She watched unseen from the doorway, taking in the scene before her. They sat at the kitchen table, chatting amiably. Sally and Claire were laughing quietly at something Sam had said. They drank coffee. Chocolate bar wrappers lay discarded on the table. They looked relaxed. Happy. The sight created a knot of anger deep within her.
The chair that had contained her father’s body sat empty. They’d moved his body. She scanned the room, searching. Her eyes fell upon carrier bags that were full to the brim. She guessed that they’d gone through the cupboards, taking anything that might be useful. To do so without permission in normal circumstances was just plain rude. To do so when her parents’ bodies lay within the house was something else entirely. Her stomach tightened. The anger increased.
The events of the last few days had drained her. The death of her parents had angered her. She felt an overwhelming sense of tiredness, which is why it took her so long to notice that someone was missing.
“Where’s Chloe?” she demanded harshly.
The three at the table started at her words. Claire immediately got to her feet and rushed to embrace her friend. “How are you doing?” she asked softly.
“How do you think?” Lex replied curtly. She manoeuvred herself out of Claire’s embrace and ignoring the hurt look on her friend’s face, she asked again. “Where’s Chloe?”
“She … well, she’s gone,” Sam said, “there were loads of zombies outside, and she led them away.”
“She did what?” Lex gasped. “Why?”
“There was no other choice,” Sam said, “they would have got in. Besides, I’m sure she’ll be fine, and we’re going to meet her at Sally’s house.”
“How long?”
“Eh?” Sam asked, confused.
“How. Long. Ago. Did. Chloe. Leave?” she said, pronouncing each word slowly as though addressing an infant.
Sam, Sally and Claire looked at each other awkwardly.
“Well …” Sally broke the silence. “About four hours ago.”
“What?” Lex said. Her cheeks coloured in to an angry red flush, almost the same colour as her hair. “I’ve been upstairs that long? Why didn’t you come and get me?”
An uncomfortable silence fell over the room. None of them had wanted to disturb her. They simply didn’t know what to say to her. So they’d left her until she was ready. It had felt like the right thing to do. Apparently, they were wrong.
“Sorry,” Claire mumbled eventually. “We thought you wanted to be alone.”
“That’s not the point, Claire,” Lex said, her lips curled up into a snarl. “How could you let Chloe go out alone? What were you thinking?” Even as she said the words, she knew she was being unreasonable, but she couldn’t help it. She wanted to shout and scream. To release the pent-up emotion. To make someone else feel the pain that she did.
“I …” Claire began.
“Whatever. Forget it. Let’s just go.” She turned away from a stunned Claire and stormed towards the front door.
The others exchanged nervous glances.
“She seems angry,” Sam whispered.
“Jesus, Sam, her parents just died. Did you expect her to be happy?” Sally said, also in a whisper.
“Are you coming?” an angry shout came from the next room, interrupting Sam’s response.
They hurried out of the kitchen, Sam snatching the carrier bags on the way.
Lex glared at them from the door. When the others arrived, she pulled the door open and stepped out. The scene before her was shocking. For a moment, she forgot her anger. Bodies were strewn across the road. Destroyed by the large car Chloe had been driving. She could make out some movement amongst the corpses. Broken bodies, somehow still alive, and responding to the sound of the door opening.
Safe Zone (Book 1): The Greater Good Page 19