by Ryan Casey
Everyone turned to Hayden.
Hayden struggled with his words. He tried to say something decisive, but nothing came out. He wanted to say it was risky. But it was also harsh to leave them outside.
But he couldn’t. He just couldn’t speak his mind. It’d been that way since he was a kid. Worrying about saying the wrong thing in case Mum or Dad weren’t in a good mood. Constantly censoring his own opinions in favour of keeping everybody happy.
“Oh, fuck this,” Sarah said. She pushed Usman away and walked over to the door of the petrol station, as the banging on the glass continued. “If Mute over there isn’t gonna make a call, I will.”
“Come the fuck back!” Usman shouted.
But it was too late.
Sarah rushed over to the door. Pulled aside the chocolate stand which blocked the way.
“Let us the hell in—”
“Alright, alright,” Sarah said. “No need for the bravado.”
Usman shook his head as Sarah unlocked the door and let the two men in. He looked at Hayden with bloodshot eyes. “You could’ve spoke your mind. You could’ve spoke your mind and we could’ve stopped her. Should’ve left you to fucking die. Waste of space.”
Hayden swallowed the lump in his throat. He tried to stand tall, to look tough, but Usman’s words cut right through him, exposed him for the indecisive, responsibility-dodging weakling that he was.
He looked over to the door and he saw the two men stepping inside.
One of them was tall, muscular and black. He was wearing a thick black winter coat and a red and blue scarf. He was holding an air rifle.
Behind him was a short, skinny guy who must only be in his late teens. He had huge bags under his eyes, wore a grey hoodie and joggers and held his hands behind his back. He was shaking. He didn’t look as tough as his mate. So much so that Hayden wondered how the hell these two came to be together in the first place.
Then again, he was hardly with like-minded individuals himself.
Usman stuck out his chest and marched over to the men. “You better tell us what the fuck you—”
“Calm it,” the black guy said. He held out a hand and Usman stopped. It was like he’d mastered the art of the force or something. “We’re all in the same boat here.”
Usman backed down. It was quite remarkable to see.
Frank helped Sarah lock the door and slide the stall back into place.
“You people got names or are you just as 2D as the infected?”
“Same applies to you,” Usman said.
The black guy tilted his head. “Fair enough.” He turned to his friend. “This is Jamie. I’m Newbie.”
Usman nodded. “Usman. This is … That’s Sarah. That’s Frank.” He didn’t say Hayden’s name.
Newbie just nodded. He looked right at Hayden. For a moment, Hayden wished he’d just point that gun at his head and fire him into oblivion. Because anything was better than the torturous embarrassment Usman was heaping on him.
“You got any chairs in here, folks?” Newbie asked. He lowered his gun and looked around at the discarded crisp packets and drinks bottles on the floor.
Usman shrugged. “Why d’you ask?”
Newbie stepped right up to him. “ ’Cause you might want to sit down with the news I’ve got to tell you.”
Fourteen
“This better be good,” Usman said. “Or I’m keeping that air rifle of yours.”
Hayden, Usman, Sarah, Frank, and the two new arrivals—Newbie and Jamie—all sat in the middle of the petrol station. Usman was trying to come across all tough and macho now that Newbie threatened his alpha status, but Hayden could see right through it.
He just didn’t have the balls to say that to Usman’s face.
Newbie sighed. He leaned forward and interlinked his fingers. “I dunno what you guys have seen or what you’ve been through—”
“Enough to know the world’s gone to shit out there,” Frank said. The trademark sceptical smile was back on his face now. But Hayden realised it was all just a cover. A cover for the pain he was feeling at killing his own wife.
He still hadn’t wrapped his head around that concept. It still seemed abstract and unreal to Hayden, like something from a dream.
And yet, he’d seen the way Frank’s face dropped when Hayden pressed him too hard on why he was trying to sound so positive. He’d heard the change in his voice.
Frank was right. Who you were before didn’t matter anymore.
Only to Hayden, that thought alone was terrifying.
Newbie looked at Jamie, then back at the others. “Jamie here got a call from his auntie in New Zealand. Other side of the world.”
“She’s—she’s like a mum. To me. She’s like a mum.” Jamie was shaky and spoke in short, sharp gasps. He didn’t make eye contact with the rest of the group when he spoke.
Newbie sighed again. He patted Jamie on the leg. “Jamie got a call from his auntie at nine a.m. our time. She’s an old woman. Housebound. She—”
“Do we really need to hear the chronicles of Jamie’s auntie?” Usman asked.
Newbie looked at him. He narrowed his dark brown eyes. “Jamie, why don’t you tell Usman here what your auntie told you?”
Jamie looked up at Usman, then back down again. “I … I don’t—”
“Never mind. I’ll do it. Jamie’s auntie asked him if he’d heard anything on the news about riots in New Zealand. She couldn’t get her television working because the broadcasts were all fuzzy. She couldn’t get through to the police. And there were people all lining the streets outside her little bungalow. People fighting one another. Eating one another.”
“Fuck,” Sarah said. She brought her fingers through her dark hair. “So it’s global.”
“Bullshit,” Usman said. “Coulda been anything. Coulda been just a standard riot, like she said.”
“And you really believe that?” Newbie asked.
Usman held his arms to his chest. “We’re getting out of this. It’s not global. We’ll survive it. We’ll be fine.”
Hayden tried to process what Newbie had said. The words still didn’t seem real to him. The infection—or the psychosis—was global. It was right at the other side of the world in New Zealand. The police weren’t answering calls there, and the television networks were down.
The zombies weren’t just confined to Smileston.
But no. It couldn’t be global. It just couldn’t be.
“Did … Did your auntie keep herself safe?” Hayden asked. It was all he could think of to break the awkward, stunned ice. The glare he got from Usman told him that he was on thin ice of a different, hierarchical kind at the same time.
Jamie sniffed. He scratched the arms of his grey hoodie. He reeked of cheap deodorant, like the interior of a school gymnasium. “The—the line cut off. I tried to ring her again and again but then … but then I couldn’t get hold of anyone.” He sniffed again. Wiped some tears from his bloodshot eyes. “But the last thing I heard. I heard her say someone was—was coming through the back door. And then that was it.”
Hayden couldn’t help but feel a lump rising in his throat listening to Jamie’s story. Sarah was visibly saddened, too, holding her hands to her face and shaking her head. Frank scratched at his bald head awkwardly. He looked like he was going to make a joke to lighten up the situation, then thought better of it and closed his mouth.
Usman just sat frowning, twiddling his thumbs.
“So say … say this isn’t just a coincidence,” Hayden said, making an effort to use his voice so he couldn’t be accused of being a pussy again. “What does it mean?”
Newbie squinted at Hayden. “Didn’t catch your name earlier.”
“Hayden,” Hayden said. He tried to smile, but his face felt like it was made of dried clay.
Newbie didn’t say anything in return at first. He nodded, and then paused. “Hayden. I don’t know what it means for us. I don’t think anyone does. We don’t know how widespread this thing is, but
we can only speculate on what we’ve heard. I just want you people to know that … well, Jamie and me. We’ve been out there since earlier this morning. We came from south of town and fought right through the centre just to get here. And some of the things we’ve seen … it’s not good. It’s … it doesn’t look like it’s gonna fix itself anytime soon—”
“Fuck’s sake,” Usman grunted. He stood up, kicked up some dust from the petrol station floor. “You guys have to be the most cynical people I’ve ever had the displeasure of hanging around with.”
“Y’know what they say about family,” Frank said. “Can’t pick ’em.”
“Except I did pick you lot. Which makes it even fucking worse.”
Frank shrugged. “Fair point.”
Hayden thought about his family. They lived just outside of Smileston on the border with Preston. “The whole of Smileston’s fallen?”
Newbie nodded. “Made it through alive somehow. But I definitely wouldn’t recommend a trip back through town anytime soon.”
“Nothing’s changed there then,” Frank said, standing up and wincing as he stretched out his back.
“I … I have family. I have family on the border. The border between Smileston and Preston. Just inside Preston. How … how is it?”
Newbie didn’t say anything in response to Hayden at first. He just looked him directly in the eyes. But that look was enough. It told Hayden everything he needed to know. His parents were screwed. His kid sister was fucked.
“I don’t wanna say outright because I can’t account for everyone,” Newbie said. “And I haven’t seen Preston so I don’t know. But it ain’t looking great. It ain’t looking great at all.”
Hayden nodded and forced the politest smile he could. He felt the weight of his cracked phone in his pocket. All he wanted was to know his family were okay, because without them, he wasn’t okay.
He was nothing without them. No strength. Nothing.
Even in this new world—if that’s what it was—he needed his family more than anything.
He was lost without them.
“Guessin’ you guys are over this way for the bunker though?” Newbie said.
Sarah frowned. “Bunker?”
“There’s a bunker just south of here about five miles. Military have set up some survivors’ camp or something. Jamie and me were on our way there when we saw your place here. Figured we’d stop off for a pasty or two before the final stretch after walking all morning.”
A bunker. Hayden couldn’t actually believe he was hearing these words. It was like he’d stepped onto the set of some post-apocalyptic film. He kept wondering when the nightmare was going to end, and then realising it wasn’t, not any time soon.
“You got a bathroom around here?” Jamie asked.
“Behind the counter,” Usman said. “Second door. It’s communal and I need a piss, so just don’t have a shit before then. Please.”
Jamie nodded and wandered over to the counter.
“So this bunker,” Sarah said, staring right at Newbie. “You’re absolutely sure about it?”
Newbie shook his head. “Can’t be absolutely sure about a thing. But if it’s a choice between being torn to pieces on the streets and a small chance of hope, I know what I’m picking.”
“Good luck with that,” Usman said. He wandered towards the counter. “I’m not leaving this place.”
Hayden’s stomach sank. If he could rely on anyone to make this situation awkward, it was Usman.
“Usman, just hear the bloke out,” Frank said. “The world’s gone to shit out there. We can’t stay in here livin’ off bags of Walkers for the rest of our lives.”
“Then you go,” Usman said. He stepped around the counter and reached for the bathroom door. “You go out there and wander back into those flesh-eaters. But just don’t come back here expectin’ me to just let you inside. Not a chance. Not a cat in hell’s—argh!”
Hayden didn’t understand what had happened at first when he heard Usman’s scream.
And then he saw the blood spray up from his arm.
Heard Usman clatter to the floor.
And above him, he saw Jamie’s pale face, splattered with specks of blood.
He saw the flesh in between his yellow teeth.
The detached greyness in his eyes.
Fifteen
Hayden understood exactly what was happening when he saw Jamie tear the flesh from Usman’s right biceps.
He rolled around on the floor and screamed out. Frank rushed over to them, swore under his breath. Sarah and Newbie followed closely behind, stunned expressions on their faces.
And all Hayden could do was watch.
Watch Jamie—or the thing that Jamie had become—tear the flesh from the body of Usman.
Watch blood spurt out from Usman’s arms as Jamie sunk his blunt teeth even further into his flesh.
Watched Usman struggle.
“Hayden—some fuckin’ help over here!”
Frank was behind Jamie. He was trying to pull him away, but Jamie just kept clamped down on Usman’s biceps. The more Usman shook his arm to get Jamie off him, the more of his bloody, sinewy flesh tore from his body, and the more he squealed like a pig.
Hayden thought about running. He thought about turning around, pulling the shelves from in front of the petrol station door and getting the hell out of here.
But outside was no better. Outside was even worse. At least in here, he had people. People to look out for him.
“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”
He wanted his dad and his mum and his sister.
He needed his therapist.
“Pussy!” Frank shouted. He wrestled with Jamie’s body as Newbie attempted to aid him. “Don’t just fuckin’ stand there!”
Hayden wanted to help. He wanted to go over there and help. But he couldn’t become one of those things. He couldn’t turn into one of those things.
But if he didn’t help, the group would throw him out. Leave him on the side of the road to die, like a diseased animal.
He had to do his bit.
He took in a few deep breaths and walked across the petrol station floor. He picked up his pace as he moved. Battled through the dizziness in his head, the sickness in the pit of his stomach. He could do this. He could be tough. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t been tough all his life. It didn’t matter than he’d relied on other people all his life. All that mattered was the here and the now.
He could be strong, just like his therapist told him, his sister told him, his parents told him.
He rushed over to Usman’s screaming body. His face had gone completely pale—at least, underneath the smothering of dark red blood. Jamie was still clinging on to Usman’s muscle with his teeth. It looked like his jaw was a high duty stapler, clamping down and piercing Usman’s skin.
“Kick him or something!” Frank said, struggling with Newbie to keep Jamie back. “Just—just boot ’im! Quick!”
Hayden looked at Jamie and he saw the quiet kid who they’d let in here a short while ago.
Tearing Usman’s flesh to pieces.
“Get him off, Hayden! You’ve gotta just …”
Hayden didn’t hear the rest of Frank’s words.
He held his breath, pulled back his foot and kicked Jamie right in the middle of his forehead.
He let the anger fill him. The same pent up anger that had fuelled him when he’d bashed his landlord’s skull in. The anger of a life of bullshit. The anger of being pushed into the background all his childhood. The anger of not being able to express himself.
Anger at the bullies who drove his sister to suicide.
Anger at his sister for taking her life and taking his with it.
He kicked and kicked and kicked at Jamie’s head, and he felt tears rolling down his cheeks.
He kicked until Jamie fell away from Usman’s arm, tearing away more of his flesh in the process.
And then he kept on kicking, kept on beating his foot into Jamie’s face with the
heavy black Doc Martens from the back of Usman’s van.
He kicked until he felt Jamie’s teeth crunch beneath his foot, and then he stopped.
He stepped back. Sweat poured down his face. Tears stung his chapped lips. Newbie, Frank and Sarah stared at Hayden, and at Jamie. Usman rolled around on the floor, the smell of piss emanating from his petrified, agonised body.
Jamie waved his arms around, but the front of his face was bloody and many of his teeth were on the floor or stuck on the tip of Hayden’s clunky boot. Frank held him down while Newbie grabbed a hose from the back of the station, and they tied the zombie to the front of the counter as tight as they could.
Hayden looked at Usman. Sarah was crouched beside him. She was saying things to him, trying to reassure him while Usman squealed, whimpered, cried. His big-man bravado was gone, replaced with pure, uncensored agony and fear.
“Fuck,” Newbie said. He gripped the back of his head. “I just … Fuck.”
“How can’t you have known?” Sarah muttered. “How … how can’t you have known?”
“That … that doesn’t matter right now,” Hayden said.
Sarah, Newbie and Frank all looked at Hayden. It must’ve been the adrenaline of beating Jamie up that gave Hayden his tongue.
“Then what does fuckin’ matter, genius?” Frank said. He squared up to Hayden. “What does fuckin—”
“Usman’s been bitten,” Hayden said. “So he’s going to turn into one of those things. So … so that’s what matters.” He struggled to force the next words out, but got there in the end. “Working out what to do with Usman is what matters.”
Sixteen
Hayden’s entire body shook as he listened to Usman’s desperate, pained screams.
The petrol station floor was covered in blood. The zombie that Jamie had turned into was rattling away on the hoses around its body, struggling and struggling to break free. It didn’t matter how hard Hayden had booted him in the face—it stayed alive. Just like his landlord, Terry, had stayed alive with even heftier head wounds.
Which created another problem: if they were going to humanely deal with Usman, how were they going to do it?