The Dead Don't Fear

by Shaun Whittington

  “I’m sorry, I’m forgetting my manners,” the dark haired boy spoke up and released a small chuckle. “I’m Richard.” He then pointed to the female. “And this is Tracy.”

  “How have yer survived for so long?” Pickle asked them both. “Yer only ... how old?”

  “We’re both seventeen.” Richard cleared his throat and added, “When I lost my parents, a day after it happened, I went to Tracy’s. Everything was okay until some guy with slick black hair turned up with some horrible ginger-haired woman, and attacked some of the houses in the street, including Tracy’s.”

  “We know who you’re talking about,” Karen said.

  “Anyway,” he continued. “We all fled, but Tracy’s parents were attacked by these dogs the guy had, because her dad had injured one of his men when we tried to escape. And after that we just scavenged.”

  “We have a camp who are open to new people,” said Karen.

  Richard and Tracy looked at one another and both smiled. Tracy said, “That sounds great.”

  “But we need to go to Cannock to do some run.”

  “Yer can either come with us,” Pickle said. “Or yer can wait here and we’ll come back and pick yer up.”

  Tracy looked at Richard for a response, but he didn’t know what to do, so she opted to speak up for the pair of them.

  “We’ll stay here and wait for you, if that’s okay?”

  “O’ course.” Pickle smiled and admitted, “Probably safer if yer stay here. Never been to Cannock since this thing started, so we’re both travelling into the unknown.”

  “You’ll definitely come back for us, won’t you?” There was almost pleading in Tracy’s voice.

  “We’ll be back,” said Karen. “Don’t worry.”

  “But if we don’t return,” Pickle spoke with a smile, then winked at the young girl. “Then it means we’re dead.”

  “Or you’ve forgot.”

  Pickle smiled. “We won’t forget.”

  Pickle took Karen’s machete off her and headed back to the pickup. She said cheerio to Richard and Tracy and then went to the driver’s side of the vehicle.

  The young couple went back into the car as the pickup pulled away.

  Chapter Four

  The three males had been on the road for nearly ten minutes, and the driver, Vince Kindl, hadn’t stopped yawning after a crap night’s sleep.

  Craig Burns was at the far end of the pickup, with Stephen Rowley sitting in the middle, and Vince noticed that Stephen was rubbing his belly.

  “Everything okay?” Vince asked him.

  Stephen nodded, but never responded verbally, so Vince persisted to query Stephen why he was in discomfort and rubbing his belly.

  Rowley eventually cracked and told Vince, “Haven’t been to the toilet in three days, chap,” Stephen winced, still rubbing his belly.

  “Nothing worse.” Vince nodded the once and added, “You should see Karen about getting some senna to try and loosen you up a bit downstairs.”

  “I didn’t wanna go down that road, chap. I probably don’t drink enough. I think that’s the main problem.”

  “None of us drink enough these days.”

  “Yeah, well I’d rather do it the right way and drink plenty and try and eat fruit.”

  “Fruit?” Vince laughed. “What’s that?”

  “I had a week without pooping,” Craig spoke up. “It didn’t bother me. You go when you have to go. It has to come out some time or another.”

  “I think my record was five days,” said Vince. “I was anxious, because I felt I needed to go, but couldn’t. I was constipated.”

  “So what happened, chap?” Rowley queried and cleared his throat loudly, twitching his neck and making Vince flinch.

  “I eventually went, but it was sore as fuck. It was like trying to shite a hedgehog.” Vince slowed the van down and turned left at a roundabout. “Anyway, I managed to take a laxative from Karen, and twelve hours later those babies came out like torpedoes, and when I looked down it looked like a nest of snakes.”

  “Ugh ... chap.” Rowley screwed his face in disgust and tried to clear his mind of Vince’s toilet activities. “A little too much information.”

  “It was great. I felt a stone lighter after the massacre.”

  “Karen has her uses, doesn’t she?” Craig spoke up and turned to gaze out of the window.

  “She sure does,” Rowley said.

  “She certainly does have her uses, Craig,” Vince chuckled and planted his tongue in his cheek. “And you will get to know in good time.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Do I have to spell it out?” Vince shook his head. “She fancies you.”

  “Come on, Vince.” Craig shook his head. “I lost my wife and kids three months ago.”

  “And she lost her fiancée. I lost Rosemary, although that probably doesn’t count, but we all have feelings and still want to shag. If anything, this shit has taught us that life is too short. I reckon you and Karen will be banging easy other’s arses off soon.”

  “Vince,” Craig sighed. “She’s just had a miscarriage.”

  “Eventually, I meant.”

  Vince stopped the vehicle as he approached a roundabout and wondered if he was going the right way. He had never been to this place before and wasn’t sure which way to go. Left or right?

  “You alright, chap?” Rowley could sense Vince was lost. “Didn’t Drake give you a route?”

  “I know where I’m going.” Kindl ran his fingers across his scarred face in thought and murmured, “Or at least I thought I did.”

  He pulled the van forwards and decided to take a left. The vehicle went round a sharp bend, and once the road straightened up a smile stretched over his features.

  “We’re on the right track,” he said.

  “You sure?” Burns asked.

  “Positive.” Vince cackled and said, “We’ll be there in no time.”

  “Do you honestly think that they’ll be anything left in the hospital after three months, chap?” Rowley asked.

  “Probably not,” Vince sighed. “But Drake asked me to go and I needed to get out of that place.”

  “How long will it take to get there, chap?”

  “Not sure, but I’m stopping off somewhere first,” Vince announced.

  “Where?” Craig and Stephen asked in unison.

  “A wholesalers.” Vince slowed down the vehicle and could see the building to the wholesalers three hundred yards away. Vince pointed up ahead, at the building, and said, “We have to pass this place anyway to get to the hospital, so we may as well pop in. I came here a few times with Lee.”

  “Okay,” Craig murmured.

  “Probably best if we park a few yards away, rather than parking up next to it.”

  “Why’s that, chap?” Rowley questioned.

  “I thought it’d be nice to stretch our legs.”

  “Really?”

  “No,” Vince groaned. “We don’t want to be seen if people are already there.” Vince turned and looked and could see the confusion on Craig and Stephen’s faces. “If I came across a wholesalers and it was full of stuff, I wouldn’t bother my arse to transport the food out of the place. It’d be easier to make the wholesalers your base.”

  Both Stephen and Craig nodded once the penny had dropped.

  Chapter Five

  David MacDonald had been pestering Pickle to ask Drake to get him a job since he had arrived at the hospital. Finally, he had been given one. The teenager had been given the job to creosote the large shed near the two greenhouses. It was classed as a shed, but it was larger than a garage.

  David had no idea what was inside the shed and never asked. He was glad to be given a job and wondered where the six tins of creosote had come from, but couldn’t help thinking: was this an important job, or was he given this just to shut him up? He was too young to go out on runs, in some people’s eyes, but Stephanie Perkins was allowed out.

  With a pair of smelly blue overall
s that had been handed to him by Gary Bond, the youngster had been painting for just twenty minutes and his right hand was already beginning to cramp. He put the brush on top of the opened tin and began to clench and un-clench his fist to stretch his hand.

  “Hey there,” a female voice could be heard behind David, and he turned around to be greeted by a smiling Joanne Hammett.

  “Hi, Jo.” He smiled and couldn’t take his eyes off the breasts of a woman he regularly thought about when he masturbated.

  “How are you settling in?” she asked. “I’ve hardly seen you since we left Colwyn.”

  David hunched his shoulders and his response wasn’t positive. This had been his third move since the disaster kicked off. He and his dad quickly moved from the Springfields Estate to Sandy Lane. His dad was killed and Sandy Lane was attacked, so a move occurred once more. Then there was the offer of going to Drake’s place. David wasn’t sure about the move, but didn’t want to be separated from Pickle, Karen and Vince.

  “I’m doing okay,” he finally told Joanne.

  “They’ve got me doing laundry today,” she said, forcing a conversation between herself and a boy she hardly knew. “Probably take me ages to hang the damn clothes out.” She looked up to the cloudy sky. “Still, at least it’s dry for now.”

  “I suppose.”

  The two of them stood awkwardly. David knew the conversation had dried up and wanted to continue to paint, but if he did this he thought that Joanne could consider it rude.

  “God, I could do with a cigarette.” Joanne ran her hands through her greasy hair and groaned further, “And a wash.”

  David smiled politely and was tongue tied, which suggested to Joanne that he wasn’t in the mood for chat. She put it down to his age and his shyness, and took the teenager by surprise by giving him a cuddle and telling him that she’d see him later.

  Joanne walked away and David looked longingly at her backside that swayed underneath her jeans. He turned back round and picked up the paintbrush to continue with his job. He began to hum a tune that had been in his head all morning. It was a song by ABBA called Eagle.

  When he was young his dad had a small selection of CDs including Joe Cocker, Lindisfarne, The Beatles’ Rubber Soul album, and ABBA The Album. When he was an infant, David and his mum used to sing the opening track to the ABBA album together, which used to drive his dad mad. His dad once drunkenly told David when he was around seven or eight that he wanted the Beatles’ track In My Life, to be played at his funeral.

  He never got his wish.

  He hummed the chorus and the memories came flooding back for the young man. His eyes began to fill as he thought about his mum; he stopped the humming and tried to wipe his mind clear and think about something else. When he did, his mind went back a month or so ago.

  He thought about the way he and his friend Charles Pilkington bullied Kyle Dickson when he arrived at Sandy Lane. He was ashamed of that episode in his life and never had the chance to say sorry as the seven-year-old was killed.

  David could hear the sound of footsteps from behind and turned around to see two young men with dark features approaching him.

  It was Ronnie and Paul.

  The two guys were eighteen years old, both had lost their parents, and had been at the camp a few weeks. The pair had met on the road and had arrived at the hospital seeking refuge.

  David didn’t know exactly how long they had been here. He had tried to talk to them a few days ago, but both men blanked him. He knew they had both taken a dislike to him, and he didn’t know why.

  “Painting the shed?” one of them scoffed. David didn’t know which one as he was facing away from them and continued to paint.

  “Yip,” was all David could muster. He continued to paint, but was aware that the two young men were still standing behind him, trying to intimidate him.

  “You know,” the same voice spoke up, “they only gave you this job because they had tins of creosote lying around and they felt sorry for you.”

  “Okay.” David responded very little, bent over to dip the brush in the pot, and continued to paint.

  “Your lot have got a nerve showing your faces round here. I don’t know what Drake was thinking.”

  David didn’t respond.

  The same voice continued. “Some people I knew died thanks to your lot.”

  David was nervous, but couldn’t help himself. “You attacked us first. That’s why people died, on both sides.”

  “Cheeky cunt, isn’t he, Ronnie?” said John.

  “He fucking is,” was Ronnie’s response. “He’ll be getting a kicking if he starts being cheeky.”

  David turned around to face the two guys and asked them what their problem was. David wasn’t a brave individual by any means, and was surprised by his bravado. He had no idea where it had come from.

  “If you have such a problem with the people from Colwyn,” David began, “then why don’t you speak to Pickle or Vince, not a fourteen-year-old?”

  The two young men were struggling to find a verbal response, and David smiled. He was scared shitless of these two young men, these two eighteen-year-olds, but didn’t want them to think that he was intimidated by them. This is how Kyle must have felt, he thought. I’m sorry, Kyle.

  John Collins took a step forwards and pushed David in his chest, making David bounce off the shed. The push was so hard that it may as well have been a punch.

  “Got a big mouth for a little cunt!” John snapped. He clenched his fists together and moved closer to David so that their foreheads were touching one another.

  “Leave me alone!” David cried.

  Both Ronnie and Paul took a gape at one another and burst into hysterics. “Leave me alone!” Ronnie mocked, using an exaggerated, whiny voice.

  “What’s going on?”

  All three males turned in the direction of the voice and David felt a sigh of relief when he saw Stephanie Perkins approaching.

  “Nothing for you to worry about, little girly,” John was the first of the three to speak. “Just you get back to your potato peeling.”

  “Potatoes are done.” Stephanie tightened the elastic band that kept her blonde locks in a ponytail and looked over to David. She was wearing all black, T-shirt and combat trousers. “You okay? Are these losers troubling you?”

  “Losers?” Ronnie laughed and moved away from the young MacDonald. If you weren’t a girl, a young one at that, you’d be getting a slap. How old are you? Thirteen?”

  “Fourteen,” Stephanie sighed. “Why don’t you make yourself useful and leave him alone?”

  “And why don’t you make yourself useful?” Ronnie giggled and gave his pal a playful nudge. “Fuck off and change your tampon.”

  Stephanie walked over to the young men and pushed Ronnie in the chest, telling him to back off away from David.

  Both young men burst into fits of laughter and John said, “Push Ronnie again, slag, and you’ll be getting a doing.”

  Stephanie placed her hands on her hips and cocked her head to one side. “Is that right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’ll be out here, now and again, practising with my bow.” Stephanie took a step towards them and snarled, “Maybe I’ll slip one day, when you’re out walking. Maybe you’ll end up getting an arrow in your gut. See if you like that.”

  “You wouldn’t.” Ronnie looked at her face to see if she was bluffing.

  She shrugged her shoulders. “Accidents happen.”

  “Drake would...” Ronnie was hesitant and thought about what he was going to say.

  “Drake would do nothing.” Stephanie didn’t allow Ronnie to finish his sentence. “If word breaks out that you two are bullying a fourteen-year-old, Pickle or Vince will have a word with you. If that doesn’t work, then I’ll have to let my arrows do the talking.”

  “We’re not picking on you.”

  “Yeah, I know. I wouldn’t allow that.” Stephanie removed her hands off her hips, folded her arms and stepped to the
side so she was now face to face with Ronnie and John was behind. “Try to pick on me and I’d kill you.”

  “You’ve killed people before?” Ronnie gulped and waited for an answer.

  Stephanie smiled. “I’m capable. That’s all you need to know.”

  John looked tetchy and grabbed Ronnie’s arm. “Come on, man. Let’s go.”

  “Yeah.” Ronnie turned and spat on the floor, missing David’s shoes by inches. “This is boring.”

  The two of them retreated and Stephanie told them to keep away from David as they walked away. They never responded and continued walking. Stephanie and David watched them until they went round the corner of the building and disappeared.

  David turned around and started painting again and never thanked Stephanie for sticking up for him. She never mentioned it. She was certain that young David was embarrassed by her intervening, but at the same time relieved that she did it.

  “I’ll see you later,” she said to David, and began to move away.

  “Stephanie,” he said.

  She turned and was expecting him to thank her, but instead he said, “I want to sort this out myself. Don’t tell Pickle or ... anyone. Don’t want them to think I’m a coward and a grass.”

  “Who cares what they think?”

  “Please.”

  “Okay. If that’s what you want.”

  “It is.”

  Stephanie walked away and David continued to paint. His throat was swelling and he had tears in his eyes.

  For days those two had been staring at him and making him feel uncomfortable, but that was the first time they had spoken and manhandled him. David was certain that this was just the start. He was expecting worse things to come from those two.

  Chapter Six

  The pickup entered the car park of the garden centre and Karen brought the vehicle to a halt. The two of them looked around and could see only three cars present. This kind of scene had been seen before when they had entered supermarkets and other places of the past. A lot of the times the vehicles belonged to members of staff who were still inside, alive or dead.