"We all comic reliefed up?"
I paused, rolling my eyes as if in thought. "Yeah, I think we're good."
"Come on then. Let's walk. Stick to the path. We need to be able to duck into cover if anything drives by."
"No shit."
We trudged along, Rich in front and me behind. I kept my eyes and ears open for runners or humans, and my nose open for the possibility of the silent ones. We still had no other reliable way of finding out when they were in the vicinity, and that was something I hoped the military were working on. That, and general extermination.
I did see a couple of them in the trees. As we passed they changed their aimless tack to follow us, but they would never catch us. I aired my questions on the live infected to Rich, speculating why we hadn't seen so many recently.
"We don't seem to see many around here anyway. Remember how many were coming for us back at the housing estate?"
"Oh yeah. Yeah there were quite a few there. But that was what... nearly a week ago now? What if they do just eventually die? Do you think they can starve? They must still be as vulnerable to natural causes as the rest of us.
"Yeah, thankfully, otherwise I'm sure we'd all be hunks of meat now. Imagine if they were all like the ones in that film. You know, the Brad Pitt one."
"Be better if this all was a film. I could turn a film off. Pretty sure I can't turn this off."
"We can. And you've already met people that took that option."
Suicide. Suicide was the only way to 'turn this off'. No. Fucking. Way.
A deer broke the trees ahead of us and bounced into the middle of the road. It caught us both by surprise and we pulled up with a start. Rich had even brought his gun over, his hand hovering to drop his garden shears to take aim. With a roar, a zombie broke cover to make chase. It didn't look at us. It was very much intent on the flesh on four legs in front of it. The deer screamed a high-pitched note and took off. The infected followed it, roaring and gurgling incoherently, and was gone into the woods on the other side. It didn't even give us a second glance. Rich looked back to me and mouthed a 'what'. I shrugged. We waited, shoulders tense and knuckles white around our weapons, for the sprinter to return. It didn't, and it didn't have any followers. One glance over my shoulder showed me that the slower friends we had roused earlier were making gradual ground on us.
"Onwards and upwards," I said with mock happiness. "Maybe we think twice about the forest being so safe."
"Do you think it was trying to eat that thing? I thought they only ate humans?"
"We've only seen them eat humans. Maybe they just try to eat anything with a pulse. Cannibal whores." I muttered comically.
"Ha. Cannibal whores. I like it." Rich nudged me, pleased with the banter. "Hey, we haven't seen any zombie animals though. Why do you think that is?"
"Maybe the virus works different for them. There's loads of illnesses we get that they don't. Vice versa. That kind of thinking is for science guys."
"What does that make us? The grunts?" Rich didn’t sound happy with the title.
"Yes. We are the grunts of this campaign. Be thankful you aren't wearing a red shirt."
"I'm thankful I'm wearing anything at all. This stuff must stink. Better than wearing one of those suits that old guy had though."
"Oh I don't know. Wearing a suit and killing zombies with a garden fork has some sort of artistic resonance, don't you think?"
"I definitely didn’t think I’d ever hear you using the words ‘artistic resonance’."
We settled back into silence and walking. The humour was genuine and the moments of peace real, not the forced relationship I had endured with Rick, tolerating his presence because of his relationship with my sister.
It didn’t take us long to reach the junction that would take us round to Austin’s house. Rich eyed up the wood on the side of the road. Another edge to the copse that had held the zombie herd.
"Do you think it’s safer approaching near the road, or through here?" Rich asked cautiously.
I gulped. You couldn’t have paid me enough to go into a forest, not if the infected were prone to chasing the wildlife as well. There was no telling what was in there. It was a more sensible approach though, so I waved Rich forward without responding verbally. We didn’t take care with our steps. We weren’t marines, and we weren’t ninjas. There would be no combat tracking expert on our trail.
Finding and following a thin path, we came out into the car park that had harboured us before. The cars had moved slightly, and the gravel had been scraped and kicked out under what could only be the feet of the undead we had seen. The coast now was clear. We moved down the road keeping in cover as much as we could, until we could finally put eyes on the house. We leaned down in the bushes, parting a couple of branches so we had a decent vantage point. There were dozens of bodies of the undead littering the ground. There had been bloodshed here. I moved my eyes quickly to the guard door. Someone was stationed there, and they had their back to us. So they had remained unscathed, despite having to put up a fight. Well done.
"How long do we wait before we check out the house?"
"A while. Let’s at least try to get a handle on how many people are here. They can’t stay in there forever."
I plonked down into a cross-legged seated position. "We can’t stay here forever either, but they’re not expecting us are they, so I suppose the joke will be on them no matter what we decide to do. Let’s get watching then."
Our ‘stakeout’ began. The rains that had pattered our house had also been here. I felt dampness spread across my arse and rolled my eyes. It wasn’t going to be a comfortable wait, though it was a walk in the park compared to a fevered night in a car surrounded by prepubescent ankle biters. Rich watched my face descend into grumpy annoyance, took off his top and sat on it. I raised an eyebrow and he shrugged.
"It’s not that bad. The sun’s out. I’d rather be a little cold up top than have a cold arse."
"Bet you just wanted to take your top off. I’ve told you I’m straight."
"You’re too skinny. I don’t think I could go for skinny guys."
"Fine. Screw you."
"That’s what you didn’t want to happen."
We heard distant voices, and that snapped us straight out of our time-wasting banter. We each parted our bit of hedge to see Austin waddling around the house. We couldn’t see anyone else, so he had to be speaking to the guard at the second house. When he turned, I couldn’t recognise him. I was glad. I would have hated to see one of the guys from the house having to stand guard for that putrid monstrosity. Whoever it was stood to one side, and Austin went through the door. That was odd. The house looked like it was in the latter stages of life. The one he had been in looked… well… looked like the house someone should live in. The second house looked like something someone would squat in. The last house along the line looked like it was ready to be ripped down.
Apparently taking queue from Austin, the man on the door began walking in our direction. I pretended that I wasn’t getting too nervous, as there was no way we could have been seen, but I did start wincing more and more until he stopped at the first undead. I saw him kick the corpse a few times before planting his hands on his hips. Whatever he had been ordered to do, he really did not want to do it.
Grabbing the corpse by the legs, he began dragging it. We watched as he came past us. He was going to dump it in the car park. He was puffing and swearing, but he was doing as he was told. He repeated this with every single body we saw on the road. The poor bloke must have been knackered. Regardless, he embodied everything I had found wrong about the community. Austin had been exiled. Now this chump was stacking corpses by his bidding. Thankless job done, he wheezed and swore his way back to the house. I waited until I thought he was out of earshot before poking Rich.
"He’s got to be the only one here. That’s got to have taken it out of him. Do we jump him?"
"It’s tempting. I’d be anyone but him right now, that must have been grim."
> Our Guardsheep got back to his post and planted his legs, sliding down until his back was straight against the wall. His head fell down between his shoulders and started to shake. He was crying.
"Now. Now is perfect."
We both went to rise from cover when in the distance I heard the ominous rattling of a car engine. Rich hadn’t registered it, and for once I was the one to pull him back down into cover and safety.
"Warren, what the…"
Laying across him to keep him in place and a hand clamped over his mouth, I looked like I was either shielding him from gunfire or trying to abduct him. After a few seconds his eyes registered that he’d heard the car, and I lifted my hand away.
"Good catch," he whispered.
A red saloon rolled into view not long after, and pulled up to the house alongside the existing vehicle for our hapless guard. It had two passengers, and I inched myself to one side to be able to get a good view of them—the cars were the closest things to us and we would be able to get a good look of their faces if they turned our way.
The driver left the car first. I didn’t need him to turn around to recognise him. We had been right all along. It was Gordon. Come here to gloat and drink, no doubt. What a prick. I hadn’t been expecting to recognise the passenger, but when the little stoat slunk out of the car it was hard not to recognise the wiry frame of Rick. He was unkempt, unshaven, his hair growing lank and greasy. They weren’t exactly looking after him on the other side of the fence. Or had he just stopped caring?
They made their way towards the second house. The man that had been on the floor quickly scrambled to his feet. Gordon pointed towards the car, and he didn’t need a second invitation. Finding a second wind, he fair sprinted back to his car and even pulled a wheelspin in a hurry to get away. Gordon put his hand on Rick’s shoulder and shoved something in his hand. Then he left to go into the second house. Rick looked around, then huddled down to stand watch.
"What on earth is going on in there?" I asked.
"I haven’t got a clue. That’s your boy, isn’t it?"
"He isn’t my fucking boy. And he isn’t Carla’s any more either, thank God."
"Why do you hate him so much?"
"I don’t hate him. That would suggest I actually cared about him in the first place. He freeloaded off Carla before all of this happened, and he used us to survive afterwards. As soon as we got behind the gates, he dropped us like dead weight. Now look at him. Talk about getting in with the wrong crowd."
"He’s not the one sitting in a hedge with a damp arse."
"You think his lot is better?"
With those words Gordon emerged again. He just poked his head out and pointed back in the direction of the car park. There was gesticulating of various types before the door slammed shut. Dragging his heels, Rick left his post to go into the house. Emerging quickly enough, he headed to the car park, paying little heed to the world around him. He even whistled a little as he tossed something up and caught it. It rattled gently; the easy money was on it being a box of matches. There was nothing more, apart from a frustrated shout of ‘just fucking set on fire will you!’ until a coarse smoke started diffusing the air around us. It was a noxious mixture of rotten flesh, hair, and burning skin. I imagined it not far off what attending a barbeque hosted by Freddy Krueger would smell like. I ducked my head down into my t-shirt and started breathing through the cloth, trying to avoid taking in any of the smoke. Rich grabbed the top he had been sitting on and did the same. We had to be sitting downwind of it. If we weren’t careful we’d end up having coughing fits. There was no way Rick would be able to avoid hearing that.
Rich signalled down. I dropped flat. It was better close to the earth. My face was flat in forest mulch and I didn’t care, taking in a blessedly fresh lung of air.
"Worst. Barbeque. Ever," Rich croaked quietly.
I gave him a thumbs up and flopped my hands uselessly on to my stomach. We couldn’t keep watch on anything with the smoke billowing around, so we might as well stay down, breath well, and keep out of sight. I heard the whistling Rick crunch his way back to the road and cursed him to the furthest gates of hell in the back of my mind. Why was he enjoying this?
I closed my eyes and decided I would just listen to the birdsong until the smoke cleared. I must have drifted off, because when I opened them again the birdsong was more muted, and the smoke had gone. Rich was sitting upright again, back on watch.
"How long have I been out?"
Rich shrugged. "Haven’t got a watch. Got no idea what time it ever is anymore. Fucking phones. I always had a watch before I got a smartphone. Don’t know why I got rid of it. What use is a smartphone now?"
"About as much use as a chocolate teapot. What’s occurring?"
"Not a lot. Your boy has been sitting outside the door for what seems like forever. Playing with a knife. Might be whittling his knob, though I’d more likely guess it’s a bit of wood."
"He’s not my boy," I repeated. "Any sign of the terrible twins?"
"Not a one. It’s getting dark again though. Remember last time the guard left before it got dark? So any minute now really."
I carefully brought myself onto my knees and joined Rich with his vigil. When Gordon did emerge, he did so alone. Was it common knowledge that Austin was here? Was this Rick’s first visit? Too soon to introduce him to the man he was guarding?
They got into the car without talking to each other. Gordon looked sweaty. Rick looked bored. Headlights on, they pulled away without fuss. Only when the car was well out of sight did Austin emerge from the house and sneak back to the main building. I started sneering without even thinking about it.
"There’s no one else in there, is there?"
I shook my head. "Not a chance. That’s more than twice we’ve seen him come and go on his own. So we have two options. Give him another day—which means going all the way home—or go in and get all night to ask him what’s been going on. Then we can surprise the next guard and get our ride back to the community."
"The ride…" Rich smacked his forehead. "Course. We need the ride. Well there’s a comfy house right there and I bet you a whack in the knackers it’s full of inventory. Let’s go and say hello to Austin, shall we?"
"By all means, after you, old fruit. Wait... whack in the what?"
Rich chuckled and got to his feet. He left the shirt on the ground. He evidently thought he could get a replacement in the house. He hustled to one side of the doorway and I met him on the other.
"Want to knock?"
I smiled grimly. "Well wouldn’t that just shit him up? Go on then."
Rich brought around his garden shears and tapped on the door a few times. Inside the house there was a stumble and the sound of breaking china. Austin must have just dropped his lunch. Rich knocked again.
"Who… who’s there?" we heard him shout.
I didn’t respond. Better Austin think of us as undead than find out identities at this point. Rich apparently had a better idea.
"It… it’s Rich. You remember me? Security guy?"
"What do you want? I’ve got a gun!"
I kept doing a cut throat gesture, but Rich ignored me and ploughed on with his ploy. "I was with Warren. You musta heard I was kicked out. I saw you here and I thought you could help me. He’s fucked us both over. I thought you’d understand."
"What’s he done to you?"
"He fucking robbed me. We had a car, supplies. We’d have been fine! We were meant to be scoping out a house to stay together, and he just smacked me on the back of the head and took off. I’ve been wandering around ever since. Please. Just let me stay one night. I just need a roof. You don’t know what it’s like out here with those things."
"Really? You’re the one that dumped me out here in the first place! What do I owe you?"
"I was just following orders. Please! I haven’t eaten for days. And that horde. I thought I was a goner, I really did."
Rich held up two fingers to me and I cocked my head i
n confusion. Then a couple of seconds later the door opened and Austin popped his head out. The first glance he took was to the left, and his eyes moved upwards over a solid torso to meet the hard gaze of Rich, who was obviously not in mortal peril. His weapons already laid on the ground, Rich clamped one giant hand over Austin’s mouth and with the other, forced him backwards into the house. I picked up Rich’s gear and followed him in. A glance around us told me that no one was coming back, with the night well and truly closing in. Austin was ours.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
"You can’t do this to me, you know!" He sounded like a whining pig, and I resisted the urge to smack him around the jaw.
"Really? After everything I’ve been through because of you? I can’t sit you down and ask you some very reasonable questions?" I asked.
"We’ve already been through this," he spat. "I haven’t done anything to you, you self-important prick. Strutting around, acting the journo, thinking you own the place. I was happy when the zombies came because it meant we didn’t need people like you asking questions all the time. But no, you had to start putting your nose in it, didn’t you? And you followed me and did the same. I had a good thing going there. We all did! You’re ruining it for everyone!"
"Ruining what?" I asked, a dangerous edge tinting my voice. We had moved him into the sitting room. It was a plain affair, a couple of 80s sofas and an old gas fireplace on the wall. A sideboard covered in crap garnered from decades of car booting. Nothing special. Nothing we would feel bad about ruining with a little bit of interrogative violence. Austin clammed up. He had said too much.
"What were we ruining, Austin?"
"We heard the broadcasts," Richard added. "We know there’s a safe zone."
"It’s hundreds of miles away. No one would make it there. Why bother telling anyone?"
I hunkered over him, my mouth within inches of his. He shrunk back, expecting me to snap or bite him. Oh how that would have poetic justice. "We deserve the right to choose," I stated, ice edging my voice.
He started to shake. "No one is made to stay there."
Great Bitten (Book 2): Survival Page 23