The Shuffling Dead Box-set

by Ian Woodhead

“No harm done, now get that door open, he’s trying to climb through the toilet window.”

  Dean pushed against the door, the frame on the other side splintered. He then heard a quiet gasp coming from the next closed door in the corridor. Talbot tried to push past him, Dean shook his head, no way, and this kill was his. He formed his hands into claws and kicked the door open. He allowed the man one glance of his fate before he leaped on him.

  Chapter Twelve

  The final batch of pies would be ready to leave the oven in another three minutes. Of course, in an ideal world, Dominic would then be getting ready to serve them out to his eager customers but that wasn’t going to happen. The old folks wouldn’t be tucking into his delicious treats for at least another hour. His beautiful pies would be degraded by having the humiliating experience of being microwaved. Dominic made the devil’s horns at the bank of five, white microwave ovens stood on the far table. If he had his way, those things would be screened off so the rest of his kitchen equipment wouldn’t be able to see the horrible, nasty things. Real chefs shouldn’t have to use those. Then again, real chefs didn’t have to work with Bernard.

  Dominic switched the oven off and placed the pies on the wire trays to cool down with the ones he cooked earlier.

  “May the great pie king forgive me for what I’ll have to do to you in just over one hour.”

  The pie king would have an absolute fit if he found out about the pie crust as well. Mr. Crowley had bit of a pop at him last week regarding the mess the old folk were making with his pie crust. He ordered Dominic to ‘efing’ sort it.

  He made the mistake of trying to tell the philistine that the only other option would be use short crust pastry but that would be like trying to boil lettuce. Bernard had unleashed that nasty little tongue of his. He’d told him to get off his high horse and to watch his lip. The man has also informed Dominic that he could have filled the pies with dog shit and the old bastards wouldn’t notice. He’d scurried away like a whipped hound while that nasty man telling him that he was seriously thinking of re-evaluating his kitchen budget.

  He picked up his favourite knife and pricked one of the pies; the meaty odour that escaped really did smell divine.

  “That beastly Bernard wouldn’t know a good pie if it hit him in the face.” he giggled, imagining the look of rage upon his face if that ever happened. “Of course the pie would just have to be filled with doggy poop first.”

  If his old cookery teacher could see what he’d done to her secret recipe, the poor woman would no doubt spin in her grave. He shivered. Dominic didn’t want to think about dead people tonight or the fact that he was an accessory to concealing a major crime from the police.

  His mother’s head would literally pop off if she ever found out. He pricked a couple more pies. “I’ll cut you a deal, if you keep quiet about my crime, I promise to use puff pastry in the next batch.”

  “Are you talking to your food, Dominic?”

  He looked up, startled and saw Marlene leaning against the door, smiling at him. He didn’t even hear the woman come into his kitchen. Had she heard him calling their boss a beast? Oh lord, he’d better learn to keep his wits about him. Bernard would not have seen the funny side.

  “Hi, Marlene, is the place busy?”

  She laughed, “Do you know something? The picture of Bernard wearing a pie made of shit is going to keep me amused for a long time.”

  “Please, tell me you won’t say anything to him. He’d be super cross if he found out.”

  “Don’t worry Dominic; your secret is safe with me. I’m just wondering if Douglas has made an appearance yet.”

  He shook his head, “You mean he’s still missing, have you looked outside?”

  “Not yet, this is the first chance I’ve had to get away, I thought that I’d check in here first.”

  Dominic shook his head, “I haven’t seen him since the incident.”

  Marlene sighed, “There’s something else I want to say to you as well,” she said, looking at the floor. “And that’s I’m sorry.”

  “What on earth have you got to say sorry for? You haven’t done anything.” He remembered the evil look she gave him when Bernard forced him to make that horrible choice, he decided not to mention that.

  “This business with the body is still playing on my mind. Were we right to go with what Bernard said?”

  “I don’t think that we were given much of a choice. I mean, imagine if we did go to the police, sure, our consciences would be super clear but we would be looking for alternative employment.”

  Dominic battled to keep his tears in check “I mean, who the hell would give an old queer like me a job?”

  Marlene ran over and put her hands on his cheeks, she lifted his head up. He could smell beer mixed with imperial leather soap on her fingers.

  “Don’t you dare start feeling sorry for yourself. You are a brilliant cook you and everyone who works here knows it. The only reason people come to this shit hole in the first place is to eat your food.”

  Dominic took a deep breath, “I’m sorry Marlene, and it’s been a rather trying night.”

  “You can say that again. Look Dominic, you shouldn’t let Bernard walk all over you. I know he’s a bastard but he’s not an idiot. He’d be insane to let you go and he knows it.”

  That was easy for her to say, nothing scared Marlene, not even Bernard. He kissed her sweet smelling hands, “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

  “Are you going to cheer up and stop talking to your food now?”

  “Well, I promise not to utter a word to the pies but I’m not sure I’m ready to cheer up just yet?”

  “Are you worried about Douglas?”

  He nodded, “That and the boy we found.” He paused and licked his lips, unsure of whether he should continue. “I don’t think he was dead.”

  She sighed, “Jesus, Dominic, that boy had definitely left the building. He had no heart beat or a pulse for crying out loud.”

  Marlene grabbed his hand, “I’ll prove it.” She pulled him towards the door. “I need a bit of fresh air anyway, the odours from those pies is making me drool.”

  He’d rather have his fingernails pulled out than look at that boy again, she was right of course, he had to be dead. Marlene pulled him out of his sanctuary and into the lounge.

  Dominic’s sense of urgency left him when a sombre but melodic voice reached his ears. He stopped and leaned back against the empty bar and watched a young, dark haired man, sat on a metal stool on the stage. God, Dominic was in love. The boy was simply gorgeous. His fingers danced across the strings on an acoustic guitar whilst singing to the spellbound audience about The Man comes to Town. Even Thomas has his head resting in his hands behind the bar, entranced by the young man’s voice.

  Marline marched back to him. “I thought you were right behind me.”

  “You’ve got a great act there,” he replied. “I’ve never seen them so quiet.”

  “So he should be too, he cost enough.” She reached over the bar and punched Thomas’s arm. “Where’s the boss?”

  He shrugged, “I think he went upstairs.”

  “Well, if he asks where I am, tell him I’m in the kitchen.”

  Thomas absently nodded, his eyes drifted back to the singer.

  “Come on, Dominic. Let’s get this over and done with.”

  With reluctance, he allowed Marlene to drag him through the lounge and into the vestibule. He half-hoped that Bernard would choose that moment to walk into the lounge and demand to know where they were going. He was torn between going back to his kitchen where he felt safe or staying here and drooling over that singer. He certainly had no desire to go look at a body in the car boot that may or may not be dead.

  Marlene pulled him through the club doors and into the car park. “I can’t believe how stiff you are.” she said.

  “You’re the only woman who’s ever said that to me.” Oh good lord! Did he really say those words? Dominic wanted a la
rge hole to appear under his feet and swallow him up. Marlene hadn’t shown any indication that she’d heard his vulgar little remark. He must be nervous; he needed to calm the heck down. He’ll be placing his hands on his hips and talking like Alan Carr if he wasn’t careful..

  Dominic couldn’t take his eyes off Bernard’s car. He’d parked the horrible thing, with its horrible, nasty secret on the other side of the car park, a couple of spaces away from his friend’s beast.

  “You’re right, Marlene. Of course you are.” He pulled his hand out of her grip and attempted to smile without feeling like a painted clown. Oh gosh, he could actually feel his own heart trying to escape out of his rib cage. “That boy is dead, he must be. Look, let’s just forget about it. I wonder where Douglas has gotten to.” He gazed from left to right. “He must be somewhere.”

  Marlene let out a short bark of laughter, grabbed his wrist and pulled Dominic closer to her. “Nice try buggerlugs, but I wasn’t born yesterday. You ain’t getting out of it that easily, Mister. Douglas will probably sleeping off those tablets in his van or something. We’ll check after I show you the body.”

  The car seemed to be grinning as if it mocked his apprehension. He imagined the car laughing at him and telling the beast and the coach that the woman had larger balls than he did.

  Oh heavens, he really ought to pull himself together, it was bad enough talking to his pies without thinking that cars could talk too.

  “Do you know what we should do, Dominic?”

  “Go back inside where it’s warm?” he asked hopefully.

  They’d reached their boss’s car; Dominic could almost hear that boy’s fingernails scratching against the inside of the boot.

  “I meant after this.”

  She took his other hand then gazed into his eyes, Marlene smiled, he tried to smile back and keep his eyes locked on hers. Was she coming onto him? At that precise moment, Dominic didn’t really care. All he wanted to do was to get away from this fucking car.

  “I think we should to leave Bernard and his dodgy double dealings and have a go at setting up our own café.”

  Dominic didn’t expect that one. “Are you serious?”

  She nodded. “Bernard promoted me to club manager earlier.” She pointed over to the coach. “Apparently, he’s done a deal to ensure it will be zombie night every night.” Dominic imagined an endless supply of microwaved pies coming past him on a conveyor belt. He physically shuddered. “Give me a little time go wrap my head around the idea, Marlene. I mean, don’t get me wrong here, I really is a super fantastic idea but it’s such a massive undertaking.”

  “If it’s Bernard you’re afraid of, don’t worry. He’ll help us out.”

  “I thought he’d be the last person who’d be happy about us abandoning him.”

  She laughed, “Oh no, the bastard will bounce off the fucking walls when he finds out but to our faces, he’ll be all smiles and wish us lots of luck.” She tapped the side of her nose twice. “He’s a businessman. Hell, he’s probably wondering why we haven’t already thought of this before now. If the business takes off and I know it will. He’ll ride the wave of our success and tell everyone that he taught us everything we know. Imagine the damage we could cause to the club if he slagged us off right at the beginning”

  Dominic’s heart sank when she produced a set of car keys from her pocket.

  “You’ve thought of everything.”

  “Thinking ahead is what I’m good at. Bernard isn’t the only one who has a good business head on his shoulders.”

  She unlocked the driver’s door and climbed in. “I’ve been running the club more or less for a couple of years already.”

  Dominic heard the catch to the boot unlock.

  “I could probably run a small café with my eyes shut.”

  He took a step back but he still wasn’t quick enough to be engulfed in the stench of wet decay that burst from the interior when the boot swung up. Dominic caught snippets of Marlene’s continuing conversation but couldn’t take any of it in.

  His eyes were fixed on that body stuffed into the tiny space and the fact that it was moving. Douglas must have broken the boy’s arms and forced them behind his head so he could shut the boot.

  Oh Jesus, and now the boy was trying to put them back.

  Dominic’s bladder almost lost its contents when the boy lifted its head. He tried to shout Marlene’s name but only managed a single croak, as if his mouth had filled with desert sand. The boy climbed out of the boot space, without the aid of his arms, they flapped by his side like a pair of broken bird wings.

  He moved his lead-filled legs back one more step as the body flopped onto the tarmac. Marlene hadn’t heard anything; the woman was still wrapped up in her fantasy. He could still hear the woman banging on about employing a waitress for this imaginary, blinking, flipping café they were going to set up.

  “Get out of there!” he shouted.

  Marlene looked around and so did the boy. Oh heavens, the boy couldn’t have noticed Dominic until he’d opened his big mouth. The boy changed direction and staggered toward him; it changed direction again when Marlene climbed out of the car.

  “Marlene does not have bigger balls then me,” he murmured. Dominic charged the boy and slammed him into the side of the car. He looked at Marlene and then down at the boy flopping about on the floor like a just caught fish on a ship’s deck.

  “Congratulations on your promotion, Marlene.”

  “Oh crap, he’s still alive. I’ll apologise later.” She rushed over to the boy, Dominic grabbed her and pulled Marlene away.

  “He needs our help, what are you doing?”

  Dominic just gazed at her with an open mouth, was she having a joke with him?

  “He’s dead,” he whispered. “He’s dead but he’s still moving about.” The boy inched across the tarmac like caterpillar, toward their feet, groaning.

  “He’s a zombie,” said Dominic, “A real zombie. Forget what I said, Marlene. Ring the blinking ambulance, then the police and while you’re at it, get the army too.”

  Dominic pulled her back when his snapping teeth got a little too close for comfort. She looked down in frustration at her phone display, “Ain’t going to happen, there’s no bastard signal.”

  The boy used the side of the car to get back on his feet. Dominic tried to catch Marlene’s attention. He wanted to kick it back down but daren’t go anywhere near it.

  “Oh, Jesus,” she gasped. “Look at that.”

  He thought Marlene was talking about the boy until Dominic followed her gaze. An old man lay on the floor on the other side of the road. A woman of similar age had straddled him, from where he stood; it looked as if the old woman was kissing the man.

  “Oh, my God! Are my eyes lying to me?”

  “No, Dominic. That old bag is munching down on the man’s face. I think we’d better go find Bernard. He’ll know what to do.”

  Dominic rushed forward and kicked the boy’s feet out from under him. He responded by groaning before rolling under the car.

  Dominic reached over and grabbed Marlene’s hand. “How’s he going to respond when we tell him that it really is zombie night?”

  Chapter Thirteen

  That last song almost brought tears to Edward Heart’s eyes. What an incredible singing voice. That boy on the stage was wasted in this dump. Now there was a lad who’d go far. In a few years time, he’ll be playing in packed out stadiums. With that magnificent voice coupled his rugged, film star looks, Edward guessed that he’d spend most of his time off stage, wading through a sea of adoring young girls throwing themselves at his feet.

  Looking around the club at the numerous faces filled with rapture, Edward also guessed that more than a few of the ladies here wouldn’t turn down a chance to give the boy a grandmotherly hug and a bit more besides no doubt.

  He casually took a sip of his bitter, perhaps now would be the opportune time to make his move. Edward couldn’t help but smile when he observed Edith
Proctor leave her seat and make her way over to the ladies.

  “Great minds think alike and all that.” he murmured.

  Not that she had a great mind, but that didn’t matter, it wasn’t her mind that Edward lusted after. After taking a couple more sips and double checking to ensure that the others were still watching the singer, he left his own table and followed her into the toilet.

  It would be nine months tomorrow since he started to have a relationship with Edith.

  Edward had trouble believing that it had lasted for so long. He really should have move on months ago. Folk grew careless in long affairs, one slip of the tongue or hasty look was all that was needed for that bunch of nearly dead in the lounge to start yapping. His poor wife would have heart failure if she ever found out.

  Edward entered the toilets and watched that boy launch into another song through the closing gap between the door and the frame, the guilt of constantly betraying the woman he’d married over fifty years ago had vanished after just one week of seeing Edith, so why did the fear of getting caught still linger?

  He stayed with his wife because it’s what you were supposed to do. These young ones who got married and then divorced a couple of years later just didn’t get it.

  Edward’s love for his wife may have fizzled out decades ago but he wouldn’t dream of leaving her. He wondered if she’d want to leave him if she did find out that her dutiful husband was the biggest over the hill love rat in the city.

  Edward slowly turned and watched Edith acting out her sexy Marilyn Monroe and licked his lips. Where was the fun in turning himself into a pariah? Besides, after two score and ten years of doing this, he was pretty sure his wife must have an inkling that Edward wasn’t exactly whiter than white.