Rotting Dead F*cks: An Extreme Novel of Horror, Sex, Gore and the Undead

by Matt Shaw

  As I neared the middle-aged man, he held the door to his shop open (another fucking newsagents) and ushered me inside. No sooner had I stepped foot into his property did he slam the door shut and lock it.

  “Quick!” he said, “Help me block it with something.” He positioned himself next to some racking, which ran down the centre of the store in sections, and pointed for me to grab the other end - which I did (temporarily pinning my baseball bat under my arm). Together, and spilling most of the crap off the shelf in the process, we moved the first section of racking until it blocked the door. “That’ll hold them but we can’t stay in here. More will come. They always do. This way!” he didn’t wait for me to say anything before he was already headed down to the other end of the shop and a small door with a ‘staff only’ sign attached to it. Again, like a gentleman, he held the door open for me. “Through here.” I couldn’t help but think of the difference between the way he was dealing with me and the way the Muslim woman tried to handle me. Had I come to this shop first, the man would have probably just given me a Coke without me even needing to ask for one. Clearly the woman was a racist. The man pointed to some stairs, “Up there!” I did as instructed and ventured up the stairs. There was another door, at the top of the stairs, which was shut. The man rather rudely, all things considered, pushed past me and opened the door. He went through and I followed.

  “This is where you live?” I asked him. He closed the door behind me and locked it using the actual door lock and a security chain. “You really think they’ll be that pissed?” I asked. “All this because I was thirsty…Jesus Christ.” The man looked at me with a perplexed expression on his face.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I broke the window, I admit that, and I may have been wrong to do so but all of the shops - yours included - were shut and I was thirsty. Just wanted a Coke but the woman, she kept coming for me so I had to defend myself. Next thing I know I have, I guess, her entire family out for my blood.”

  “What exactly do you think is going on out there?”

  “Sharia Law I’m guessing.”

  The man frowned at me. A split second later he was laughing. “You think they’re like that because they’re Muslim? Are you really that stupid and ignorant?”

  “I’m going to let that slide because you helped me out of a tricky spot but if you talk to me like that again…” I looked at my baseball bat and then at the man before giving him a smile. Sometimes words weren’t needed.

  “You’ve been wandering around out there and the only thing you notice is the colour of someone’s skin? You haven’t noticed anything else that other people - normal people for instance - may find slightly fucking odd?” I didn’t like the way he was talking to me. What started off as a potentially great friendship was starting to take a downward turn for the worse. “Come with me,” he walked me through to the lounge and pointed towards the television which quietly played in the corner of the room. “You might want to take a seat,” he suggested, pointing to one of the two armchairs in the room.

  Michael and Nicola

  Nicola looked towards the patio doors on the far wall of the lounge. I had drawn the curtains blocking out the outside world so she couldn’t see anything out of them (and nothing could see in) but it didn’t stop her from trying.

  “Why’s mummy standing in the garden?” she asked. I jumped up with my back to the glass doors.

  “Mummy’s not here,” I told her, “you know that. She’s in Heaven.”

  “No, she’s not.”

  “Yes, she is.” I felt myself getting angry with Nicola. We had spoken about what had happened to her mummy at great length, so she could understand. I even had specialists help explain it - to try and minimise the emotional damage at losing her mother at such a young age. I tried to calm myself down. With everything that has happened today the chances are she’s just had a bad dream. A horrible nightmare brought on from the day’s drama.

  “No, she’s not! She’s standing in the garden!” Nicola yelled at the top of her voice. I nearly lost control, right there and then. Nearly slapped her in the face but managed to pull myself back from completely losing control. The shock of the day, the anger at the way Nicola spoke to me and the hurt at losing Vix - it’s all too much for me. “Look!” before I could stop her Nicola stormed across the living room floor to the curtains and gave them a sharp yank open. I froze. My heart in the back of my throat. There she was, my wife, standing at the back of the garden with her back to us. I knew I couldn’t see her face from where I was standing but I knew it was her just from the dress she was wearing. I had spent so long, going through her various outfits, trying to find something to bury her in. Such a hard decision. I’d never forget the dress I ended up choosing. Figure hugging, light blue, pretty - nice shoes which matched it perfectly and the undertakers matched a haircut she had in one of my favourite photographs. She didn’t look quite as good as the day I buried her though. Something was amiss. Her hair was disheveled, the dress hung from her as though too big from severe weight loss and she was coated, head to foot, in a dusting of earth. But - inconsistencies aside in how she looked now to how she looked the day I had her buried - she was still my wife; the love of my life.

  For a split second, Vix hadn’t died. For a split second my life (Nicola’s life) was normal. For a split second, I was happy. We were happy. Nicola was already fumbling at the key to the door in order to let her mum come home. It was the sound of the lock clicking open which snapped me back to the harsh reality; the truth of the matter. This person - this thing - standing in the garden, it wasn’t the wife that I had buried. There was nothing about my wife inside this monster. Just a passing resemblance.

  “Mummy!” she called out as she opened the door.

  “No!” I quickly pushed the door shut before Nicola could get out. I ignored her screams as I turned to look out of the glass doors. The thing - the monster - standing at the back of the garden, started to turn around slowly. “That’s not mummy!” I said. I quickly shut the curtains before Nicola saw the thing’s distorted face. That on top of everything else she saw today - if there is a way out from the horrors - she’ll never recover. In fairness, if I saw the new face of my wife, I probably wouldn’t have been able to forget it either. I picked Nicola up and took her to the other side of the room. She was still screaming so I put my hand (gently) over her mouth to try and keep her quiet. “Honey, listen, I know you think it is mummy but I promise it’s not. It’s not her!” She stopped screaming so I slowly pulled my hand away.

  “But it is!”

  “Oh, darling, it’s not her. I wish it were…” I wanted to give my daughter a hug. I wanted to show her that I wasn’t being a bad person. I was protecting her. Now wasn’t the time, though. A fact reiterated when a hand banged against the glass patio door. One bang, and a second. A third. Repeatedly banging to try and get in. Nicola screamed with each bang of the pane. “Listen we have to leave. Go and get your shoes on,” I told her, “as quickly as you can for daddy, okay?” She turned on the spot and ran from the living room, down the hallway, towards where she had kicked her shoes off when we came in. I hadn’t taken mine off. I rarely did when I came home (something which pissed my wife off, especially if she had spent the morning hoovering). My wife (not my wife) was still banging on the outside of the glass patio door. I turned around and looked at the closed curtains covering the patio door. They were shaking slightly, from the force of my wife banging on the glass. I wanted to go up to them, and move them back. I wanted to see her. I wanted to see if I could see any trace of her in there but I knew I couldn’t. It wasn’t my wife no matter how much I wanted it to be. Whatever is happening, whatever is bringing people back to life, it’s not because they want to rekindle old romances and continue with their lives. There is nothing innocent about what is going on. They’re coming back bad and that is it. I turned away and left the living room, joining my daughter in the hallway.

  “Ready?” I asked her. />
  She nodded. The poor girl looked terrified.

  “Where are we going?” she asked.

  I didn’t know. The news programs showed the port and airport both out of action and told people to stay locked in their homes until help showed up but I don't think anyone on the news was expecting things to be as big as they were. I mean - my dead wife climbed from her grave and came home. I’m pretty sure, if she did it, other previously buried corpses will be doing the same thing. And if not now then soon. Nicola was looking at me, those damned puppy dog eyes, expecting an answer. No ignoring the question this time around. I thought on my feet, “Off to see Nanny and Granddad!” I told her. Vix’s mum and dad lived out in the country - a big, old house right slap bang in the middle of nowhere. I already knew the roads close to us would be a nightmare to negotiate but, if we could, there was a good chance we would be safer with them, away from the dense population of the city. The news of a visit to Nanny and Granddad brought a smile to Nicola’s face. Pretty sure this was the first time I’d seen her smile today. “Sound like a plan?” I asked. She nodded. “Good.”

  “Wait, I need my bear!” and before I could say anything she dashed up the stairs towards her bedroom. Her teddy bear, Ivor, she hated to part with him. The banging hands of my wife, bouncing off the glass door in the living room, reminded me that we didn’t really have time for this but if it meant Nicola felt more comfortable then we’d have to find the time.

  “Hurry!” I called up. I hurried over to the front door. Down the side of the door there were a small section of glass windows which you could look out of (or look in through, I guess). I used them to peer out into the street. Shit. A few of the infected milling around out there. Thankfully - so far - none of them seem to be that close to our house, or my car, but I’m well aware that could change any minute. I turned to Nicola as she came bounding down the stairs. “Got it?” I asked - a rhetorical question seeing as I could see the little brown bear clutched in her dainty hand. She joined me at the bottom of the stairs. “Okay we’re going to play a game,” I told her, “we’re going to go outside now and we’re going to see which of us can be the quietest on the way to the car. If you make a noise, you’re out!” I was relying on her love of off-the-cuff games to get us to the car without attracting any unwanted attention. “The winner gets to eat the last of the Haribo sweets stashed in the glove box!” I promised her. If her love of off-the-cuff games doesn’t keep her as quiet as possible then her love of sweets will, I’m sure. “Okay?”

  “Okay!”

  I gave her a smile and made my way back to the front door. I pulled the keys from my pocket, where I had slipped them when we came in, and checked out of the small glass window again. Still the same out there - a few of those things lurching around but not a lot else happening. I wondered whether any of my neighbours were out there, in their houses, waiting to do the same as Nicola and I. Maybe it would have been a good idea to wait to see if they made it first before I put my daughter in danger. Can’t. The banging on the glass reminded me that time was of the essence. I opened the door as quietly as I could. Thankfully no creaking hinges to bring unwanted attention. A quick check to my left and right - to be sure the coast was clear - and I ushered Nicola out with a gentle shove of my hand. Other fathers may have wanted to lead the way but I’d rather she went out front so I could keep a better eye on her and anything (or anyone) that may have been approaching. Harder to be mindful of her if she were behind me, whilst also trying to ensure I didn’t run into trouble too. Thankfully - abandoning the car where I had - it wasn’t that far to go and we were soon both inside via the same door. Nicola crawled on through to the back seat and I made myself comfortable (quickly) in the driver’s seat. The car door, even though I closed it quietly, gained the attention of a few of the infected but they weren’t close enough (yet) to cause any significant issues. I slid the key into the slot and twisted it. The engine spun into life and immediately all of the nearby creatures knew we were there. Slowly they started meandering towards us - all of them looking as though they were struggling to control their bodies. I could sense Nicola starting to panic but there was no need. Not whilst we were in the car. With half a tank of petrol and the doors locked - as long as we didn’t park up in the middle of a group of these things - we were pretty safe for now.

  I slid the gear-stick from neutral to ‘one’ and gently pressed my foot down on the accelerator. No need to rag the engine yet. Not whilst we weren’t in any imminent danger. As I drove away from my house (possibly for good) I couldn’t help but think of my wife (at least what was left of her) standing there trying to get in through the back door. Part of me wished I’d had the energy and heart to put her out of her misery. Let her rest in peace as she deserved to. I can’t beat myself up about it too much. I’m not sure how strong these things are but I know what happens if one of them manages to bite you. I couldn’t afford to put myself in any danger. Not whilst I have a daughter to look after. She is my priority. I don’t give a damn about myself - I haven’t since the passing of Vix - but Nicola…I don’t want her to suffer or be in any pain. I want her to live her life to the full and I’ll do anything I can to ensure that is the case.

  I started to think about her Nan and Granddad and couldn’t help but wonder whether their house was indeed the sanctuary I believed it to be, not that I have much of a choice now my own home had been compromised. And I still think the middle of nowhere is a good a place as any to try and wait this thing out. At least there, surrounded by fields, we have a chance of setting up some kind of watch to ensure these things don’t get close to the house. The more my mind weighed up various options, the more I felt this was definitely the best of decisions. As I turned onto the main road and saw all the cars queuing to get out (mostly abandoned) and with so many people running around it was hard to tell the normal people apart from the infected I knew my biggest challenge would be in getting to the property.

  “Daddy I’m scared!” Nicola whined from the back of the car. I knew there was no way of stopping her from seeing what was happening; the panic, the attacks, the desolation. That didn’t stop me from wishing I could keep her from seeing it though. I didn’t admit it to her, for she didn’t need to hear the words, but I was scared too. Very scared.

  I double checked that the doors were locked before pressing forward with our journey trying my best to navigate my way through the abandoned vehicles, panicked pedestrians and infected souls feasting on whomever they could grab. Sadly, and as expected, it wasn’t long before Nicola and I attracted unwanted attention. Not by the infected who were happily eating those already killed but by some of the remaining survivors who were banging on the windows, and trying our locks, in an effort to hitch a lift with us.

  “Daddy!” Nicola screamed as a man (clearly bitten on his neck) banged on the window next to her.

  “It’s okay, honey. Everything is fine. Just ignore them. We’ll be out of here soon…” Driving around the cars, mounting the pavement where necessary, and zigzagging across the road it wouldn’t be long before we were out but I knew that this was nothing to what we were going to witness. This was merely an appetiser. I reached down and turned the radio on. I wasn’t sure what to expect but part of me hoped they’d still be issuing some kind of travel bulletin. Some kind of information about the state of the roads and which of the routes was most congested.

  “People are advised not to travel. Stay in your homes until help comes.”

  “And when do they think help would come?”

  It didn’t take long to realize that the talk show host was talking to some government bod. I turned the volume up as I continued to navigate my way through the varied vehicles and bodies.

  “We are doing everything we can to try and ensure this situation is resolved swiftly,” was the only answer the host received. We had all seen this situation arise in horror films and other works of fiction but I couldn’t help but wonder whether there was actually a real contingency for this kind o
f scenario. Maybe there was or maybe the people who were in charge of that area just brushed it under the carpet saying it could never happen. For the sake of humanity, I hoped it wasn't the second case.

  “And what exactly caused this?” the host pushed for more answers. I already knew he wouldn’t get anything. Even if the man he was talking to knew - it would be so classified he wouldn’t be permitted to say anything for fear of sparking more panic.

  “We are still following up some leads,” the man clearly lied. They didn’t have a clue as to where it came from. Someone - somewhere - must know but it certainly wasn’t the people in charge. I could sense the man sitting there now, in front of the guest slot’s microphone, squirming in his chair. The fact he was there may not have been answering many (any) questions but at least they had gone to the effort of getting someone there. Being able to hear a voice with no answers was better than hearing no voice at all.

  “So once again people are reminded to stay in their homes until help arrives. Do not travel anywhere. The ports are full of the infected, as are the airports - with all planes grounded. Lock your doors, close the curtains and remain as quiet as you can. We are being promised that help will be….” the radio cut off mid-sentence. I leaned forward and twisted the dial off and back on again but it was completely dead. Maybe it will come back on again in a minute, or two. Probably just a technical glitch or something…Try it again when the roads are a little clearer - when I have more time to have a fiddle. In the meantime, things are getting even more congested and I need to concentrate. Just keep driving for as long as I can - and then, when I can go no further, turn back to the nearest safe place to hide for the night before starting again tomorrow. I know it will be slow progress but so long as it is progress that will be fine by me.