"So what do we do? It's not as if we have any proof."
"You've not heard them say anything? About any message or any other places for survivors?"
"If they were, they didn't say it around me, or they were talking in some kind of code. I really thought that they wanted the best for us. Is that naive? Or is that too kind a word?"
I shook my head. "I know exactly how you feel. We're still in shock. This didn't happen all too long ago. We're all adjusting to a new world, and we knew that early on the government dumped out on us. It's easy to go on believing that there's no one there backing us up. It's pretty obvious there's no help coming from overseas; otherwise half the country should be on fire by now. We've all had to flee loved ones or friends and abandon our normal lives, and I wouldn't blame anyone that got caught by an infected because they were just wandering around in a catatonic daze. I've considered more than once just getting wasted and wandering out into the street, risking my chances, and hoping I don't feel any pain when they bite through my flesh. That's the coward's way though, isn't it? We've all been taught to have the stiff British upper lip—that we will prevail through the hardship, no matter what. I've already had to get rid of one couple that committed suicide, and it was not a pretty task. They were old. They'd already lived their lives. We're young, many of the survivors. We can't just leave this. We can't let the country go to ruin. There's enough of us to fight back if we just rally together to do it. And that's what we were duped into. We thought the community would be our base to fight back, that we'd be given the chance to sally against the infected and take back our country." I thought then of Karen and her light and fervour when she came face to face with the undead. The woman that had been an office worker in the city had not had such a bloodlust. That had been born in the fires of the infection, but it was passion like that we would need to survive. Gordon's role at the community appeared to be dousing those flames until we were all docile lambs, ready to do his bidding at any direction. Travis had been the conductor, pushing us into menial and meaningless tasks, making us feel like we were contributing to the new society, actually doing something worthwhile to make the new world a better place. That wasn't true. Carla was a sharp mind, and they had her peeling potatoes.
"Shit. Shit!" I slammed my hand on the dashboard.
"What?" Rich furrowed his brow.
"I know exactly what they've fucking planned for us."
Rich hit the brakes, bringing the car to a stop. He turned to me. Realisation had dawned on him. "They're not going to let us back in are they?"
"No they are fucking not. Why do you think we've been given this fuel? The car? Have you even checked in the boot?"
Richard flew out of the car and pushed open the hatchback boot. I heard him cursing, and moved to join him. There were two duvets, basic provisions, some basic medicine. We had been exiled, and we hadn't even known it.
"That fucking bastard. He can't do this!" Rich slammed the boot shut with a frustrated yell. His voice almost broke.
"He can. And he has. I bet he gathers them all together in the square and says we were both responsible for the gate and so we've been kicked out with immediate effect. We can't have dangers to the community staying within its walls." I spat to the tarmac, a feeling of disgusted nausea rising in the pit of my stomach.
"I didn't think they could stoop that low. I really didn't. After all I've done for them. I made that place safe in the early days. I made sure we had people, and weapons. What an ungrateful..."
Our noise wasn’t going unnoticed, and a rustling came from the side of the road in response. We shared a look that conveyed, "The guns are in the car" before an infected broke cover, coming straight for us. Rich and I both ducked around the other side of the car. The infected followed us, and we played a ludicrous game of chase around the car for two full rotations.
"This is fucking ridiculous," Rich exclaimed. He stopped, and waited for the infected to come to him. It didn't take long. It was an anonymous teenager. Thin, pasty skin, three sandwiches short in the great picnic of life. It was a testament to the virility of the infection that, as the zombie impacted, even the massive unit that was Rich rocked back a step. But his arms were out ready, and he held back the small frame of the teenager as bloodied hands were caught in a vice grip and the bloodied jaw snapped at tantalising flesh that was just out of reach. I stopped running and panting slightly, dove into the car to retrieve one of the guns. I darted around so that I was behind the zombie, and I placed the barrel a foot away from the base of the kid's skull.
Rich was transfixed and silent, holding the thing in place through sheer upper-body strength. I could see parts of his arms, and the muscles were bulging. He was like a cobra, and if the infected had even half a reasonable brain, he would not have been attacking. He would have been running very far in the other direction. I saw Rich's arms begin to shake. It must have been taking a lot of willpower and strength to keep the infected lad where he was, despite all the thrashing and pushing. Unable to take anymore, I darted to the car. I grabbed a gun from its spot on the backseat.
"Just say the word and I'll take his head off," I said.
I waited through some tense moments of quiet. The infected made snarling and snapping noises as he tried to reach the frustrating man who was so casually holding him out of reach. I was worried that Rich would let the zombie take him and turn him. The prospect of facing Rich as an infected was not a pleasant one. The gun began to shake in my nervous hands.
"Warren, I'm going to pull this guy to the ground in three seconds. When he goes, shoot him in the back of the head."
"I got it."
I counted down mentally. At three, Rich used the feral momentum of the lad against him. He let go of the arms only long enough to sidestep neatly and push the back of the head down, sticking out one leg and tripping the infected to the pavement. I stepped up and quickly placed the barrel at the back of the head. Before the creature—for I would not bestow it with any more personification—could recover and move, I let a shot go. I wasn't ready for what happened. The head fairly disintegrated under the blast. Blood mist and brain splatter spread out on the road almost under my feet. It ranked easily as one of the most singularly disgusting things I had seen since the infection broke out.
Rich clasped his forearm over his mouth.
"That smells fucking disgusting," he said through clenched teeth.
I sniffed. It was thoroughly awful. Something akin to sulphur mixed with dog shit was now drifting gently up from the corpse. At least this one wouldn't be getting back up to attack anyone else.
"Right, let's fox trot Oscar before we come across any more of these things."
"Where are we going to go?" I asked incredulously.
"Is it safe to do a drive-by? I know the lads at the gates. We've done a lot of guessing today. I just want to make sure that we're not allowed back in." Rich stated with a nervous finality.
He was right. We had made a leap of faith that we had been exiled, although the conclusion seemed likely in order to get us both out of the way. If it was true, I still thought Gordon had played his hand prematurely. Both Rich and I were apparently well-liked. Hell, I was a hero. You can't kick out the heroes. Carla wouldn't let this one rest easily. Although, with me gone, would she have any real protection? She was a mouse living in a viper's nest.
"Come on. Let's go, before it gets dark."
We drove the last twenty miles or so to the community in silence. We both had our own demons to master, and we had been thrown into the fire together without so much as a by-your-leave. I felt like we had a good chance to make survival work. We were both capable. But first, we had to establish just how bad the situation was.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Rich pulled the car up in the layby that me and Rick had used not a fortnight before when we had arrived. We had been nervous, not knowing what to expect. Now I was with a man who had built the defences, and I didn't fancy their chances of keeping us way from the gate
before we got to ask the questions on why we had been kicked out in the first place. Rich suggested he go on his own, but I disagreed. If we were separated, we were easier to take down. Strength came in numbers these days. Besides, I was bat-shit scared and I didn't think I could do it without him. Not approach the gate, at least. I figured I had a reasonable chance of survival on my own, at least for a short time. We would always naturally seek company, that's what human beings did and it was not natural for us to think otherwise.
Rich reluctantly agreed to let me tag on, though he didn't take as well to my joke that he was the size of two men anyway. I stored that away for future use at a more appropriate time. Rich did suggest leaving the car in the layby. I pointed out that Rick and I had lost our car that way, and perhaps it was better to leave it somewhere else.
"Ah shit I forgot about that. This is the closest layby to the road in. It was quite easy to pick folk up here. But I’d be surprised if they’ve got people out on the road today. It wasn’t a regular thing, you see. Like we know, Gordon doesn’t like it when kids play outside the fence.
"Well if you think it’s safe, we’ll leave it here. Maybe, with it being our… err… reward for exile, folk will be told to leave it alone."
"Maybe if we’ve been exiled, folk have been told to shoot us on sight."
"That’s not something I particularly want to think about right now."
"Then let’s get this done before we do any more thinking. I’m virtually shitting myself right now. I know a safe house, but I don’t think I can find it so easily in the dark. You ready? We can’t make this long."
"I’m ready. Fuck this isn’t nice."
The birds singing were a counterpoint to the way we both felt. I swallowed down bile rising into my throat. My stomach growled furiously. The bile and the grumbling both reminded me of how desperately hungry and thirsty I was. Did our exile kit include food and water? It had better fucking do. On the flip side, hearing the natural noises of nature said to me there was neither human nor infected lurking in the woods ready to spring some sort of horrible trap on us. It had been a really shitty day, and the last thing I wanted to do was end it face up in a ditch. We kept to the foliage, blessing the more upmarket residents of Surrey with every cautious step as we were able to approach within ten feet of the walls before we ran out of cover. Rich flipped a glance up and down the walls. There were two sets of watchers he knew, but they would be concentrating on their own little territory unless a commotion drew their attention elsewhere. We were being careful and quiet with our approach. We all knew the infected did not have any such considerations. I glanced at the gate to try to see who was on guard, but the angle was too acute for me to see anything. We had to get closer, and that involved breaking cover.
"We run for the walls. Keep tight to it and we just slide along until we get to the gate. You okay with that?" Rich hissed at me.
"Sounds simple enough. Can’t shoot us if they can’t see us, right?"
"Right. And I don’t want to stumble on some shambling infected in here."
"They’d make noise, moving around."
"And what about the ones that don’t have legs? I’ve seen more than one of those. It’d be really fucking embarrassing if I had even a close shave with one of those things." Rich drawled moronically.
"You’re right, that would be pretty weak for a man of your standards. Ready to go now?"
"Ready."
Rich darted out of cover and straight to the wall without another breath. I was caught on the hop, but shuffled after him, wincing only slightly at the ankle that I had hobbled in my jump from the car earlier. My fantasies of having a broken limb which would ail me and heal into a deformed stump were unfounded, and it was probably just twisted. Average Warren strikes again. I resisted the urge to flatten myself comically against the wall and slither across the brickface like an animated Disney villain. I suspected Rich wouldn't really approve of this, either. We moved in silence, our assumptions that we wouldn't be seen because of our comparative stealth ringing true. Rich held up a fist to me as we got to the gate. I knew from movies and video games this meant that I had to stand still. It was out of place though with our two-bit operation, and I had to resist yet another urge to descend into a fit of the giggles. My body started jigging, and Rich's stiff arm rapidly rapped out and whacked me in the stomach. Caught unawares, I doubled over and now tried to stifle a cough. He crept closer to the gate, trying to figure out who was on guard. When he saw who it was, he swore and broke cover without a second thought. With this only being a good thing, I followed him. I was astonished to see Karen and Carla reaching to us through the gates.
"Warren, oh my fucking God I didn't think you'd actually come back."
"Shh. What's wrong? What's happened Carla?"
Tears streaked down her face. Karen too looked pale, sickly, shocked from whatever had happened at the community that day. Rich and I were obviously unawares. I hated telling either of the women that they'd have to fill me in on their side of the story.
"Gordon... he held a meeting," Karen started, but had to gulp to work down her rising panic. Carla took over her words. "Well meeting is the wrong word. Fucking kangaroo court is more like it. Said you and Rich were responsible for the failure at the gate; that you were both plotting to take over the leadership of the community. That's why you'd been asking everyone the questions, Warren. He said you were trying to undermine him, and getting Rich to switch allegiance to you and stage the break-in at the gate was the last step. It doesn't matter that we've already heard two lads admit to their mistakes at the gate not long after it happened and they've since fucking mysteriously disappeared. It's a fucking stitch-up and a joke, that's what it is. He said you were both exiled, but that you'd try to come back. He said you'd come back tonight, and we had to be the ones to give you the message because we were closest to you. He, Gordon, he said that if you come back again he won't just have you both killed, he'll kill us, too."
Blood thundered into my ears. Rich started shaking the gates, a growl from the back of this throat turning into a feral roar that one of the infected would have been proud to produce.
"Gordon! Travis! You fucking cunts come here and tell us yourself! You can't do this to us! We haven't done anything wrong! Neither have they! You fucking sneaky, jealous, power-hungry..."
I tried to yank him back from the gate. I succeeded in shutting him up, and had to duck the swing of a furious arm before he caught what he was doing.
"Warren, let me shout them out. They can't do this. They're threatening your sister, and your friend! We know we're innocent, and what the fuck have they got to do with this?"
"I know that, Rich. Don't you think I know that? I've been here before, remember? Gordon isn't the first person to try to use Carla against me. Austin failed. Gordon will too."
I turned back to the gates. Both Carla and Karen were pressed against it; neither of them could hold back their grief, although I was buoyed to see the indignant fire glowing in both of their eyes. They each had an arm over the other's shoulder, and stretched their spare hand through the gates to touch me. I returned their gesture, clasping each one's hand. As before, when anger brought the world into focus, I started noticing the little things. I was appalled by the amount of grit and dirt on my calloused hands, my fingernails blackened with who knows what, and my arm matted with dust. By return, their hands were small, smooth and delicate to the touch. Carla's was cool whereas Karen's was hotter, the skin on her arms flushed. It was hard to tell the same from her face with the tears puffing up her features, but she was not looking like the same resilient creature I had met those days ago. I dropped her hand and pushed my palm to her forehead. She went to step back, but thought better of it and pushed gently into me with a sigh. I clasped my hand around the pale smooth skin, my fingers touching her temples. She was feverish.
"You're ill," I said bluntly. It was not a question.
"I've not been properly well for a while. It comes and goes."
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"You need to get something for it. Have you got medicine? Are they treating you?"
"According to the community leaders, I fraternize with a criminal. I don't think they're going to put me at the front of the treatment queues any time soon."
She sounded more sad and resigned than bitter. What exactly had Gordon said to them? As if a threat on their lives wasn't enough. I squeezed Carla's hand. She returned the gesture. "I'll look after her," she told me quietly. I was grateful. It must have shown in my eyes, because she just nodded. She held her hand open for Rich, too. He took one quietly.
"I know you're not a bad man, Rich. And no one I have spoken to believes a single word that has come out of Gordon's mouth. Even if you two were planning some kind of coup, he's gone the wrong way about quelling it. People are furious. Everyone that lives with us is refusing duties. We'll get you through this."
"Thank you, Carla. I appreciate that. I'm sure Warren does to. I think Gordon's words might hit closer to home than even he thought. But if he's pissed people off in the process that helps. Listen, Warren and I both think there's more to the community than meets the eye. We agreed when we were out, then when we realised there was no real reason for Gordon to send us out... well that's when we put two and two together. For once, we got four. We're going to lay low for a while. We're going to make sure we stay safe. We're going to build our case against these tossers, and we're going to come back and put Gordon and Travis in their places. Whilst we do that, you all have to carry on as normal. Don't react like there's a problem.
Great Bitten (Book 2): Survival Page 19