Great Bitten (Book 2): Survival

by Warren Fielding

  "Yeah, got the wrong idea, you see... well you see, I wasn't... that is to say when I left..."

  "I think what Austin is trying to do, is apologise."

  The man I had to assume was Gordon said this. I saw Carla nodding slowly out of the corner of my eye. Austin seemed to warm up to this simple suggestion.

  "Yeah, apologise. That's it. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for the misunderstandings we had on the pier."

  "Misunderstandings?" It was Rick's turn to repeat things.

  "Yeah, you know, the... the... uh... problems."

  "Is that the problem of you locking people in the club room to die, or the problem of you trying to have us killed out on a run?"

  Austin looked like he was openly sweating, and only a few notches away from shitting himself. I wondered what suggestions and threats had gone on in the background to get him here. I wondered what placatory measures had already been taken to have Carla calm in his presence.

  "Those matters were raised to us by Miss Fielding when she arrived with us, and they have been dealt with according to our rules. Austin is now here to offer you personal apologies on his actions." Gordon sounded like a trite bastard.

  "Well that sounds lovely and proper, but I don't think I'm ready to accept an apology from this lying son of a bitch. You did not see what he did. There were children on that pier. Babies." I packed bitter vitriol behind those words, and my voice cracked in my throat.

  "Now boys there's no proof that I was to blame for any of that." Austin waved his hands disarmingly.

  My blood ran cold. "Lana survived, Austin."

  I imagined the air turned slightly fouler at that point. I'd like to think so, anyway. Carla stilled. "She told me what happened in the clubhouse. So whilst it's great you've been fucked for abducting my sister, you're still accountable for murder and I have no idea why you're here amongst decent people. Sorry Gordon or Travis or whoever is in charge here. I will not be accepting the apology of this shitstain any time soon."

  Gordon didn't look happy at my rant and the temperature in the room had dropped a few degrees. He was commendably composed under the circumstances, however.

  "I can understand this. We didn’t know about these… additional accusations. Richard?" Gordon didn’t click his fingers, but his phrasing clearly implied it. Rich stepped forward. "Take Austin back to his home. He is under house arrest until this is cleared up." Rich nodded and took Austin away. I was annoyed to see that Austin looked relieved at this perceived punishment. "In turn, gentlemen and ladies, I advise you to steer well clear of Austin's home. We will not tolerate people taking the law into their own hands. Is that understood?"

  I had no idea where Austin lived, so I just nodded.

  "Good. We will get this dealt with as soon as we can. We will not have lingering personal debts in our community. I'll send for you when we need statements. Remember, candles are scarce. Good night, all."

  Gordon and Travis left, and Rachael, not knowing what else to do, blew out a few of the candles. We had been scolded. Some people react to that in different ways.

  "Who the fuck was that?" Rick finally found his voice, now there was nobody important enough around to chastise him.

  "You have just been greeted by Gordon, the leader of the community appointed by common vote. He's an asshole," Carla declared, "but he's a fair asshole. Guys, I didn't really want to discuss all of that stuff in front of you, but here Gordon's pretty much declared it so we might as well do the story. What the hell happened after we left?"

  "How much of it do you want?" I asked wearily.

  "As much as you care to give. I thought you were dead."

  "Well that's what he wanted us to be, that's for sure. Turns out Gollum wasn't a bad one after all."

  "Gollum?" Carla asked, confused.

  "You know, Gollum? Jeremy? The wiry freaky looking one?" I often forgot, not everybody had my penchant for pet names.

  "The guy with the piercings?"

  "Yah that one. Turns out, he wasn't so bad after all. To the tune of saving our lives. Possibly twice."

  "You saved his life too, Warren. It wasn't all one-sided."

  "It felt it by the end of it. Andy and Matt were both in Austin's pockets. They'd been told to kill us, make it look like part of the hunt, then hop it back to the pier," I explained.

  Rachael and Tracey both covered their mouths in horror. Rob and David were leaning forward, hands on knees and giving us their full attention. "Thing is, they messed it up. And we got them to confess, too. Andy... well I feel bad about him. He was just doing it for his wife, and Austin killed her anyway."

  "I know I mean, what did you say about the club? I wasn't in it. I was just waiting for the helicopter. Austin told me I'd be one of the first ones on, women and children first and all that. Then none of them made it out, apart from... then he shot... and..." Carla broke down in tears. This time I was given 'bad guy' glances as she was consoled by the women. It wasn't my fault. The story was the story. She looked up in between snorts. "But wasn't there a second helicopter? That's what Austin told me. A second transport for the men. Did he lie about that too?"

  "Oh no, he didn't lie about the second helicopter," Rick said, lacing his words with sarcasm. "I think he was a bit artistic though about how talented the second pilot was."

  "What do you mean?" One of the guys asked. I thought it was Rob, but couldn't be sure.

  "It flew into the pier," Rick stated, matter-of-factly. This brought gasps of dramatic astonishment all round, including from Carla.

  "How the fuck did you get out of that alive?"

  "Me? Sheer pig-headed luck. I'd left Rick down the bottom end of the pier—he wasn't exactly in a good state, so I didn't want him in harm's way. So he was shielded from the worst bits of the blast. I was knocked out. Lana pulled me to safety."

  "The dyke?"

  I winced. "Don't call her that. She saved my life."

  "Sorry." Carla muttered. "Didn't realise it meant that much to you."

  I stopped, taking a few breaths. It was surprising how much this recounting was taking out of me. It was a traumatic story. And, somehow, a journey we had survived. I had wanted Lana to survive it, too.

  "What happened to her?" Carla asked, trying to be softer this time.

  "She was bitten," I said quietly. "In the clubhouse. Technically, Austin killed her, too."

  Silence dropped over us all. "Well," Tracey broke in, trying to sound chipper. "At least you both made it here. You're all Carla's talked about."

  "Then she's not having a very interesting time here is she?" Rick answered. Light laughter broke the stiff macabre atmosphere.

  I looked down at my hands. I felt suddenly overwhelmed with tiredness. I yawned and stretched. "Where does a man get to bed down? Size of this house, I'm guessing it's about a mile to get to bed, no?"

  "You wish," Carla sneered. "This isn't everyone. There are people out on patrol and guarding the walls—it's a regular military operation in this place. Much better than that godforsaken pier. Whose idea was that place anyway?"

  I shrugged. "It worked at the time. We're alive, aren't we?"

  "Somehow—and only just. Is anyone else from it left alive?" Carla asked cautiously, and I suspected she didn’t really want to know the answer.

  I thought about Lana briefly, upset that the only stranger we managed to pull away from the destruction of Worthing had still succumbed to the infection and been lost. "No." I muttered. I could tell I sounded strange with the way Carla looked at me sidelong. She usually only looked at me like that in the past when I was drunk and causing trouble.

  Suddenly I felt overcome with the day. I had been bracing myself for a fight to get to Carla and she had virtually walked into my open arms. Then I had been expecting a fight with Austin, and I found that in the main Carla had made her peace with him. Was there nothing left to do now but rest, and begin to rebuild? The community certainly seemed stable enough. And orderly enough, without the cliques and prejudices of the pier�
�although there was still the occasional oddball at the top of the tree. Still, such was life, and there were things that were evidently never likely to change.

  * * *

  Despite Carla's statements making me dread some kind of dormitory squalor, the room she led me into was spacious, with a high ceiling and wide high windows, which had been left without curtains. There were several single mattresses lined neatly around. Everyone had plenty of room to manoeuvre. When I asked why, Carla simply responded, "so we can see what's happening." Lights were barred upstairs so there was no danger of attracting the attention of the outside world, no matter their ambulatory state of being. She asked me if I'd need the toilet. Autopilot said no, so she handed me a blanket and pushed me in the direction of a mattress. Compared to the vegetable aroma and the maudlin surroundings of the house at the bottom of the hill, this was a quiet heaven. In the dim shadows, I could see a couple of other shapes in the room, and the soft sound of gentle snores was a rare lullaby. I fell into an immediate and deep sleep, but before my eyes fell shut, I felt warm and almost happy. I could sense that this would be a true, full, and needed rest.

  I woke up an unknown amount of time later. It was still dark. I don't know what happened to me, but I was in a cold sweat and my cheeks stung with the tingling needless of a slap to the face. A shape hung in front of me, clutching the front of my damp shirt. When they saw that I had woken, they let me go. I dropped back down to my mattress, confused. A South African accent hissed at me in the darkness.

  "You keep having nightmares like that, friend, and we're going to have to gag you at night."

  I must have slept out the rest of the night without stir, because the next time I lifted my eyes open, daylight was pouring through the exposed glass of the bedroom window. I blinked a couple of times and rolled over, curling my back in defiance at facing what the day might bring. I looked over at the mattress next to me. It was occupied. I'm sure it hadn't been when I was brought upstairs, so I assumed this was one of the folk Carla had mentioned as being on patrol. They too had their back curled to the window, body trained to seek out the gloom to delay the impending sun. I didn't envy them. Working nights in this place must be a bitch.

  I stretched, relishing a click in each of my shoulders, before rolling off the mattress onto the floor. I was rolled into my little blanket like a fajita. It was childishly comfortable. I contemplated standing up in my blanket tube and hopping to the toilet. This would probably disturb the sleeping watchman though, and would no doubt be met with disapproving stares and grumbling from the stable adults. I shed the thin layer, screwing up my face at the dirty clothes from yesterday's toil. I suddenly felt very itchy, and didn't resist the urge to find some clean water so I could wash down. I found the toilet easy enough. It was close to gleaming despite our end of day's situation. There were a couple of full buckets of varying sizes dotted around the floor. I assumed the one by the toilet was used to flush it. I risked a tentative look in the bowl, not unlike checking in the toilet roll after you sneeze. It wasn't bad. At least, it wasn't festival bad. I relieved my bladder, electing not to waste any more water on a flush, and used some of the bucket to give myself a rudimentary scrub down. It wasn't nearly enough for me to feel clean, and my hair was starting to feel matted on my head. I wondered why I hadn't shaved it off yet. It was just another body part to maintain in a world that wasn't going to cater for looks anymore. I scratched my hand across my chin stubble. And women complained about having to shave their legs. I bet they didn't complain about that anymore.

  Up and down the landing, I saw a number of closed doors. I wondered just how many people were in this one house, and for that matter, how many they had managed to fit into the community as a whole. Each house was massive; the room I had been thrown in last night had six single mattresses alone, and plenty of room for more. Given the decor, it had probably also been a child's room, suggesting that it might be smaller than the other allocated bedrooms up here. I tried some mental arithmetic, but gave it up as a bad job after realising much of yesterday afternoon's arrival was a mingled blur. The encounter with Austin, though, had stuck in my mind, and I was very curious to find out how community leaders meted out their own particular brands of justice. My sister was hard to please, and she had seemed very peaceable.

  I found Carla downstairs in the kitchen. She was scrubbing in the sink. I lingered by the doorway to appreciate that scene for a few moments. Not a month ago, she was a bastard lawyer clawing her way over the helpless bodies of her peers to climb the socio-economic ladder. Now, she was playing washerwoman in a mansion sink. I let out a chuckle on purpose so she knew I was there. She glanced over her shoulder at me, her eyes bright, and gave me an affection, "Fuck off."

  I flipped her the bird with a grin.

  "Where is everyone?" I asked.

  "We all get jobs to do. You and Rick are going to be given full orientation today, and then you'll get your jobs. And don't think it's all going to be manly with guns. Everyone gets a turn at the laundry."

  "Fine by me—it'll be the cleanest I've been in weeks. Where do we go for breakfast?"

  "Oh shit. I forgot you wouldn't know. It's through here, anyway. Don't expect miracles."

  "I wasn't really expecting anything. Glad to take what you've got."

  My stomach rumbled, though I wasn't sure whether it was in dissent or agreement. Breakfast was actually a pleasant, albeit dry, surprise. Carla led me to a dining room table that was littered with various open cereal boxes.

  "We're using all the perishable stuff first. Perishable has been labelled as 'likely to rot, already open, and likely to attract unwanted wildlife'."

  "Trying to avoid infestations? Sensible people."

  "Yup. And because we're basically living on millionaire's row, there's a big excess of fancy shit lying around—plus all the stuff people are bringing in with them too."

  She filled a bowl with something golden and frosty, and handed it over. I grabbed loose handfuls and shovelled them in my mouth. My throat was dry, but I chewed around it, just grateful to be fed without a fuss. I could ask for some water before I got carted away to whatever 'orientation' consisted of around here. Rick joined us from some side room or another.

  "How big is this house anyway?" I asked.

  "Not sure. Six bedrooms? Seven? Technically if you count the extra rooms we're turning into bedrooms, more like eleven."

  "How many people are they expecting to fit in here?"

  "Are you kidding? Have you seen the sizes of some of the rooms up there? Your bedroom is the smallest here, and they reckon there's space for twelve in there, comfortably. If we need to start bunking up, you can double it. My room is set for at least twenty. They're aiming for a minimum of one hundred per house."

  "Wow. How many houses are there here?"

  "Eighty-four. They're all pretty large. This must have been a pretty nifty place to live before the shit hit the fan."

  "That's an understated way of putting it. How many of the people here now actually lived here before the outbreak?"

  "I don't actually know. I haven't even been introduced to half the people here. It's impossible really, there are hundreds of us. Isn't it fabulous, Warren? This is what we wanted back at the pier in Worthing. We were just thinking too small! It's perfect here. I've only been here a few days, but it's such an easy routine. And the safety! Have you seen the walls? And have you seen Richard!" she gave a low growl of approval and Rick pulled a face. They both seemed overly happy. I slammed the brakes on my brain and threw my thinking into reverse before I dwelt too long on what that might mean and sent the atmosphere straight down a different route.

  "So. Travis and Gordon. Do tell."

  Carla looked quizzical. "They're in charge. Well. Travis is in charge of maintaining the herd. Gordon is in charge of organising defences and strategy."

  "Desk Man and Action Man?"

  "That pretty much sums it up. It seems to be working. I've not been here that long remember, so I'm
not fully up to speed on things around here. But Travis was the man that booked me in, and Gordon was the man that handed Austin his arse for assuming I was a piece of meat for barter. I like Gordon. He doesn't take any shit. And he has Rich—that massive guy at the gate—to make sure people keep doing what he says."

  "What..." I was hesitant to ask. I didn't like thinking about what could have happened to Carla on a different day. "What exactly did Austin think was going to happen to you here?"

  "He thought..." her eyes watered briefly. "He thought that there was a payment system to get in. That they wanted women for their own use, and I would be his ticket to get through the gates."

  "What happened when you arrived?"

  "We attracted quite the crowd, humans and zombies. I saw Austin and Gordon talking. Gordon kept looking at me, all sad and angry, and then the next day he announced the punishment for Austin. Austin was pissed. He kept saying that's how it had been said and promised, that he wasn't a bad person, he just wanted to stay alive."

  "Said every bastard ever."

  "Tell me about it." She clutched onto Rick's arm, more for comfort than support. "So I got placed here, as far from Austin as they could put me. I told them I was a lawyer, and they're thinking about getting me to help to put some basic laws in place. Aside from that, I'm on safe tasks until they decide what to assign me to. Seeing as you're such badasses, I'm guessing you'll be out on guard or patrol pretty much straight away."

  "I would have preferred getting a rest." I grumbled.

  "Nine to fives are cancelled for the foreseeable future, as are weekends. I've been advised the pension plan is excellent, although the likelihood we will survive to cash it in has been diminished. There is no NHS and all annual leave is off. Any more basic questions?"

  "Is there a promotion structure?" I asked hopefully.

  "Only for useful people. That counts you out in this place." Carla hadn’t lost her wit, but there was no humour in her eyes. I let her comment slide without retort. "Can you remember how to get to the main house? I had to meet everyone there for my first day. I reckon Travis can get you settled in."