by Hartill, Tom
I put my head in my hands and try to keep from shaking. Moments ago I felt alright, but now the gravity of what I’ve done rolls over me and I can’t breathe. Not just because I feel guilty, and I do feel guilty, but because I may have to do it again to someone else. Probably will in fact.
What if you have to do it to Tess?
That thought jerks me upright. Could I do that? If Tess has been bitten, has become one of those things, could I do to her what I did to Alan? Could I break her skull and watch her blood and brains pour out, through that beautiful corona of dark red hair, over her face, those lips that I’ve kissed almost every day for the last two years?
Of course I couldn’t.
If she went to work then she’s probably one of them already.
No shut up, she’s alright, I know she is.
How?
Because she has to be! I try to shut that voice up, for now at least, but terror fills me and I cannot bring myself to start the engine. That voice has done its work and now I’m crippled with doubt. I want to go back to my flat and lock the door, like the news told me to. I don’t want to face those things. I don’t want to risk driving the relatively short distance to Tess’s place only to find she isn’t there, or worse that she’s become a monster.
A new voice speaks up in my head.
Get it done.
It’s not that easy-
Yes it is. You’re further out of town, you’ve only seen one of those things. If you see any on your way to Tess’s you’ll drive right past or right through. She may not be one of those things yet, you’re probably right about that, but do you think that state of affairs is going to last if you don’t get going? You know you’re going to do it so do it already and stop whining like a bitch.
In my mind this voice is American, like a Drill Sergeant. I christen him ‘Mr Get it Done.’
Mr G says it’s time to go and get Tess, before things go from ‘bad’ to ‘total shit-storm’ and he gets me moving. I start up the engine and pull out onto the road.
The van is a piece of shit, clunky, slow with a ride so uncomfortable it feels like my bones are being shaken apart, but it’s a ride, and I’m going to drive it all the way to Tess.
As I pass the corner shop, I see Riz/Raz and a couple of burly Asian fellows nailing boards over the shop front. I pull over and lower my window.
“Hey, have you seen what’s happening?”
The men look up, one of them, wearing a large turban and holding a crowbar talks quietly to Riz, eyeing me suspiciously. Riz gestures for him to calm down and walks over.
“Hey man, what’s up?” he says.
“What are you guys doing?”
“Boarding up the shop ‘innit? My Uncle reckons those rioters are gonna’ come up this way eventually and we gotta’ defend the shop.”
“I think you’d be better off getting out of town.” I reply eyeing there improvised defences.
“Nah man, we’ll be alright. You got somewhere to go?”
“I’m going to get my girlfriend, take her out of London ‘til this calms down.”
“Good idea man, get out into the countryside yeah?”
“Yeah.” I look up at one of the men who is leaning against the shop with a mug of something, tea or coffee. He lets out a cough, and as he raises the mug, I see a bandage on his forearm, poking under his sleeve. I look at Riz who has seen my expression.
“You should really think about leaving.” I say.
“We’ll be ok.” But now he sounds much less certain. “You wanna bring your missus back here later? We got room?”
“Thanks but we’ll be fine. Good luck to you.” Before I wind up the window I lean over and lower my voice so the others don’t hear. “You gotta hit them in the head, that’s what I was told, that’s what the police say.”
“In the?- What you talkin’ about man?”
“Just remember, destroy the brain that stops them.” He takes a step back as if I might be crazy and as he lowers his gaze he notices the splotches of Alan’s blood on my shirt. Before he can say anything else, I wind the window up and drive off, looking at his frightened, confused expression in the rearview mirror.
The drive to Tess’s is something I’ve never done, on the bus it’s half an hour. There’s very little traffic on the road save for emergency vehicles and the odd people carrier, laden with luggage. Most people haven’t cottoned on to the idea that they should be evacuating the city, probably doing what the television is telling them, for now at least. I think that might change in the next few hours. By the end of the day those people that aren’t infected might begin a mass exodus. I’d rather avoid that if I could.
Some small shops and businesses are open, but many more are standing empty, shutters closed. Buses aren’t running and the one or two pedestrians I see are moving quickly, eyes down, heading for home. I try calling Tess again but my phone won’t connect. Whatever’s going on has really screwed up the mobile network.
I pull up to Tess’s flat twenty minutes after I set off. She lives opposite a small park, above a nail salon which normally does pretty steady business. Today the park is empty, the lights in the salon are off and a sign has been taped to the door that says;
‘CLOSED DUE TO STAFF ILLNESS, SORRY FOR ANY INCONVENIENCE.’
I look around but I can’t see anyone, so I step out of the van. I walk up to the front door and press the buzzer for a full five seconds hoping to hear Tess’s voice. Someone does answer, but the voice on the intercom isn’t Tess, its Cassidy, Tess’s housemate and leading campaigner of all things anti-Mike. This could be difficult.
“Hello?” She sounds half asleep.
“Cass? It’s Mike, is Tess there?”
“What do you want?” Venom drips from every word.
“I wanted to make sure she’s alright. Is she there or not?”
“No Mike, she’s not alright-”
My stomach turns,
“-but once you’re out of her life, she will be.”
I lean against the door in relief.
“But no, she’s not here, she left for work hours ago.”
Fuck!
“Have you spoken to her since she left? Is she still in the city? Did she make it out ok?”
“Make it out? What the hell are you talking about?”
As I go to answer I notice movement out of the corner of my eye. A man I can only assume to be homeless is shuffling through the park. He is holding what looks like a length of something dark in his hand as he looks vacantly at the ground.
Suddenly his head comes up.
Oh Christ.
His mouth is smeared red, his jaw still working. My stomach lurches as I realise he is holding what used to be a dog lead.
Then where’s the dog?
His beard is stained with blood, his eyes that same cloudy colour that Alan’s were. As they lock with mine, he lets out an awful rasping moan and starts lurching towards me like a broken marionette. He’s maybe forty yards from where I’m standing, closer to the van than I am. I realise with a sinking despair that I’ve left the hammer and the knife on the front seat.
What a fucking moron.
“Mike? Hello?”
I jump as I hear Cass on the intercom.
“Cass can you let me in please?”
“I told you Tess isn’t here!”
I struggle to stay calm, the tramp is getting closer.
“I know but you need to let me in, it’s not safe out here.”
“Not safe? What the fuck are you-”
“Haven’t you seen the news?!”
Jesus Christ, what’s wrong with her?!
“Look at the fucking TV!”
“Mike I don’t know what the hell you’re on about but if you don’t get out of here I’m calling the police. I was working ‘til four AM at the bar last night and I don’t need this shit.”
“Ok Cass look I’m sorry.” I’m starting to panic and I fight to sound reasonable. “But please you have to let me in. I think Tess is in seriou
s trouble.”
A pause.
“What kind of trouble?” I can hear the suspicion, but Cass loves Tess like a sister. I need to use that, before this homeless bastard takes a chunk out of me.
“I think she may be hurt.”
The intercom clicks off and I hear Cass come down the stairs. The tramp is nearly on me, growling, moaning, ready to sink his rotting yellow teeth into me. As Cass opens the door I barrel into her and push her back into the stairs, slamming the door behind me.
“Mike what the fuck?!-”
She shoves me, her face furious. She’s five foot nothing but she has a fearsome temper, probably that Hispanic heritage.
I’m about to answer when the tramp slams into the door from the other side, rattling the frame.
“What the hell is that?” She says, heading for the door. I block her path.
“Don’t open it!” Another blow hits the wood. Thank God it’s not one of those half glass jobs.
“Don’t be a-” She goes to walk by me but I hold my hand out.
“I mean it Cass, opening that door would be a really bad idea.”
“Fine, I’m calling the police. I’m not having some crazy bastard kick my door in because of you.” She turns and heads back up the stairs and I breathe a sigh of relief. The tramp is still banging the door but the lock is a heavy bolt and I think it’ll probably hold. I walk up the stairs behind Cass, (she’s only wearing a vest and pyjama shorts, so the view isn’t half bad) and follow her into the kitchen.
“Wait here.” She says.
A moment later she returns, dressing gown on, mobile phone by her ear. After a few seconds she puts it down and picks up the landline. That doesn’t work either. She points the handset at me. “Why isn’t my phone working? And what’s happened to Tess?”
“I think you should turn on the TV.”
“Why?”
“It’ll explain better than I can.”
She eyes me warily and we go into the tiny living room. She flicks on the TV and we watch the incoming reports. A man in soldier’s uniform is speaking directly to camera.
“Special forces teams have been dropped into surrounding suburbs to eliminate and contain the immediate threat whilst search and rescue units have been deployed to extract isolated survivors in the city centre. We have established numerous ‘Safe Zones’ on the edges of the city and are co-ordinating with the Royal Marines to facilitate an evacuation via the Thames. Though the spread of this contagion has been more aggressive than first anticipated, we have moved rapidly to counter the threat. The Manchester and Birmingham outbreaks have almost been fully contained, and once secure, all resources will be diverted to the capital. The military is urging all Londoners to find shelter and secure their position as best they can until help arrives.”
He stares straight down the lens.
“Make no mistake, help will arrive. Please remain with us to hear the list of safe zone locations.”
Cass lowers the volume with the remote and looks at me. Her face is ashen.
“Is this really happening?”
I go to answer, but a loud cracking sound stops me. It seems like our homeless friend is making some headway with the front door. Cass looks terrified.
“Don’t worry he can’t get in.” I say, having no idea if that’s true. “I need to find Tess, did she definitely go to work?”
Cass nods and puts her arms around herself.
“Have you heard anything from her?”
“No I told you, I just woke up.”
“We need to go get her and get out of here.”
“Go where?”
“Out of the city, into the countryside, wherever. It doesn’t matter, just out of London!”
She stands up and walks to the other side of the room running her hands through her hair.
“This is crazy!”
I try to not get irritated but I need to go. I feel like I’m running out of time. The longer Tess is out there, the harder it will be to find her.
“I know its shit Cass, I know that, but help me here, I have to go get Tess and I think you should come with me.”
Cass looks at me like I’m insane.
“You want to go out into that?” She points at the T.V. where someone is broadcasting a video recorded on a mobile phone. A crowd of infected are bearing down on a line of riot policeman as they shamble up Tottenham Court Road. I see a man screaming as he is pulled down, the visor of his helmet popping up to show his terrified, bulging eyes before he disappears in the scrum.
I turn back to Cass.
“No, I don’t want to go back out there. What I want to do, what I really want to do is go home, get drunk and laze around in my pants watching shitty movies and daytime telly. But what I have to do, is find Tess, and make sure she’s alright.”
Cass raises an eyebrow and it makes me want to slap her. I don’t do it of course, nor would I, but I’m not having a great day and it’s a pretty close run thing.
“Look I know I’m not your favourite person, we aren’t ever going to be best mates, but I….I love Tess and I need to make sure she’s safe. Are you going to help me or not?”
She looks at me, assessing.
“Fine.” She says, “I’ll help you find Tess, but when we do, as soon as she’s safe, we go our separate ways. You aren’t good for her Mike, you never have been.”
I get ready to deliver a retort, something scathing but Mr. ‘Get it Done’ intervenes.
You need her, just let it go for now. Find Tess, deal with this later.
I hold my tongue. “Fine, deal, now can we please just go?”
“And what about that guy downstairs?” She says.
I realise that the banging on the front door has stopped. Perhaps our homeless friend has wondered off in search of easier prey.
“If he’s still around we’ll deal with it. Just get dressed ok?”
She huffs theatrically and heads to her bedroom. I pace the living room for what seems like a ridiculously long time. Then I walk back into the kitchen and select a new knife from the rack in Tess’s kitchen. It isn’t very sharp but it’s better than nothing.
When Cass returns, she is fully dressed in what looks like running gear, hair tied back in a sleek ponytail.
“Good, let’s go.” I say, impatient to be off.
She sees the knife in my hand.
“What are you going to do with that?”
The idea of using a weapon still seems ridiculous, and I feel myself turning red with embarrassment.
“Just in case. I’ve seen those things up close, its better to have something.”
Cass gives me another appraising stare, but this time she looks more worried, less sceptical. For a moment I think she’s going to say something else but she doesn’t, so I head carefully down the stairs to the front door.
I see the huge crack that now runs down the centre of it, and I realise that the infected homeless man was probably only moments away from breaking in. I hear Cass gasp behind me as she sees the damage. I think she’s beginning to grasp the scale of what’s going on, maybe even better than I am. I guess nobody believes in monsters until they’re crashing through your front door.
Damn that was almost poetic.
I peek through the crack in the wood in case the tramp is still around, but I can’t see or hear anything, so I tentatively open the door. The street is deserted. I beckon Cass to come out and I close the door behind me as she steps outside.
I walk quickly to the van and open the driver-side door. Cass walks round to the other side.
The passenger door is locked and Cass knocks on the window for me to let her in.
As I reach for the lock, my eyes widen in horror as the blood covered face of the tramp appears behind her, mouth yawning open, reaching for her with his filthy twisted hands. She sees my expression and begins to turn as he bears down on top of her.
Fuck, he must have been behind the van!
Cass stumbles backwards into the door, I can
’t open it because now the weight of both her and the homeless monster are pressing against it. She’s holding him off but he is bigger, stronger and any second now he’ll sink his teeth into her. I don’t want to see that, I don’t want to see Cass die.
I don’t have time to get out the van and run around to help, it’ll be too late by then.
Frantically I wind the window down, and I give Cass just enough room to lean back as the tramp lunges forward, his teeth clicking shut only centimetres from her face.
She is screaming.
I drop the blunt knife and grab the hammer from the seat beside me.
“Cass duck!”
She hears me and slides down the door, and now I am in mister Tramp’s eye-line, he forgets all about her, and pushes through the window towards me. I bring the hammer down reflexively, yelling as I do, a purely terrified instinct. There isn’t room for a big swing, and I strike the hard part of his skull, the reverberation sending a shooting pain up my arm and I nearly drop it.
Through the windshield I can see Cass scrabbling backwards across the tarmac, her face a picture of terror. Then the tramp is pulling himself through the window, his shoulders squeezing through as his hands snatch at my clothes. In seconds he will be on top of me, in the cab with me, and I force myself to react. I reverse the hammer and hit him in the side of the head with claw part. There is a sickening, wet crunch as it sinks into his temple, gouting thick dark blood in a spray that hits the dashboard and windshield. His right eye pops out the socket, dangling grotesquely onto his cheek.
He spasms once then stops moving abruptly.
All at once, I feel like I’m having a panic attack and I kick him hysterically back out of the window. As he slithers onto the pavement, I hear Cass give another scream.