“You never used to drink it,” Marla remarked.
“Yeah, it’s the dreams. I just need it to stay awake,” Ellen stated, biting her lip and putting her mug down next to her sister’s. She folded her hands in her lap.
“You’re still having them?” Marla asked.
“Every night.”
“How long did you say..?”
Ellen calculated. “Ah, it’s gotta be about three weeks now.”
Marla frowned. “That’s a long time to have the same dream.”
“You’re telling me.”
“I didn’t think before, but you do look pretty tired…”
“Yeah, I haven’t slept properly for a few days,” Ellen said. “I’ve been trying to stay awake. I wanted to ask you if you’d let me sleep near you.”
“Erm, okay, but why?” asked Marla, surprised.
“So you can wake me. I feel like I’m screaming in my dream, but I can’t wake up. Seriously, they’re so frightening. I just don’t want to sleep anymore. Work is cool, like I said, but I can’t concentrate so well and I keep imagining strange things, like I’m seeing… well.”
“What?”
“Eh, it’s nothing,” mumbled Ellen. “You’d just think I was nuts anyway.”
“Try me.”
“No, no…”
“So what are the dreams about? You didn’t say…”
Ellen took a deep breath and pushed her hair back between her ears. “Promise not to laugh.”
Marla nodded.
“Zombies, I’m dreaming about dead things walking around… every damn night.”
Marla broke into a fit of giggles, and then slapped her hand over her mouth when her sister scowled at her.
“See, that’s why I wasn’t going to tell you.”
“You’re like the scientist guy on TV,” Marla noted. “You know, he’s dreaming about zombies, but he’s predicting the end of the world as we know it!”
“Yeah, he is.”
“You don’t find that funny?”
“Nope,” Ellen replied, “because my dreams started on the exact same day as his.”
“But that’s just coincidence.”
“Is it?”
“Ellen! Come on, zombies? We’ve all seen the films, the TV series, read the scary books. You can’t be serious…”
“So why am I dreaming about them?”
“Because… because… you were always scared of horror films as a kid,” Marla reasoned. “You’re stressed about something, obviously, and then you read about this nut job in the paper and your imagination kind of hooked on to it.”
Ellen took a gulp of her coffee and wiped her mouth with the back of her right hand. “He’s not a nut job.”
“Oh, yes, he’s completely sane. Let’s invite the guy down the pub for…”
“Marla!”
“Okay, I’m sorry, but, seriously? Jesus.”
“Well, these dreams are scaring the crap out of me, and I want you to wake me up if I’m screaming or moving around,” Ellen said firmly. “Then, if I wake up and you’re there, maybe I can go back to sleep like a normal person.”
“Alright,” Marla agreed, trying to keep a straight face. “We can both sleep here on the sofas. Just as well I have two of the suckers. Deal?”
Ellen nodded, but she did not smile.
Saturday, 11
The scream pierced Marla’s dream and shook her awake. Sitting up straight with a start, she gazed around the room, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the dark. A wisp of faint yellow haze from a streetlight streamed through a gap in the black curtains. It flickered across the sofa where Ellen was sleeping and lit up her face. Marla gawked sleepily at her sister. Her mouth had fallen open and she was staring upwards at a spot on the ceiling. Marla instinctively glanced up, but there was nothing on the white-painted space above.
Rising, she stepped quietly towards Ellen whose body was motionless and her breathing shallow, but it was the expression on her face that sent a cold chill up Marla’s neck. The girl’s eyes looked frightened beyond fear and the gaping mouth yawned like a soundless chasm. Marla stepped closer and rubbed her sister’s arm, which felt cold to the touch and rigid. “Ellen, Ellen, wake up,” she said softly.
There was no response from the sleeping body, so Marla tried again. This time her efforts were met by the same piercing scream, but Ellen’s expression did not change and her body stayed still. Marla felt another chill run up her back. There was something wrong; this did not feel right. Her sister looked as if she were having a stroke. Fearful, Marla rocked Ellen’s arm with increasing strength, but there was no reaction at all. It was as if she were under some kind of spell, like Sleeping Beauty in the storybooks. Shaking her head, she ran into the kitchen. Returning with a cup of water, she flicked some on to Ellen’s face.
The girl woke with a gasp and began to splutter as her hands floundered around her cheeks, which were dripping wet. “W-what?!” she stammered. “W-what did you do?”
“I woke you up,” Marla replied, stating the obvious and still gripping the mug.
“By pouring water on me?”
“It was the first thing I thought of. Sorry.”
“Fine,” said Ellen, pushing her hair back from her face as reality gradually dawned on her. “The dream, I remember…”
Marla perched on the edge of the sofa next to her and placed the half-full mug down. “You scared me, Ellen.”
“Why?”
“You woke me up with this crazy scream. It was scary. Then I saw your face and… it was not like you.”
“How?” asked Ellen, frowning. “I have this every night…”
“Well, now I’m sorry for that,” Marla said. “Your face had this weird expression. Your mouth was wide open and your eyes were staring up at the ceiling, and you screamed twice. But each time your expression didn’t change and you didn’t move. Your eyes were empty and your body didn’t move an inch. It was like you were dead.”
Ellen stared at her sister and shivered. Drawing her knees up against her chest, she rested her chin on them. “I wondered. Wondered…”
“What?”
“Nothing, I’m sorry I scared you.”
“It’s not your fault,” soothed Marla. “But after seeing you like this, I’m sorry I didn’t take your fear of sleeping more seriously.”
Ellen nodded and then smiled. “Thanks for waking me.”
“Do you remember what you dreamed about?”
“Yes. It’s the same every night.” Ellen glanced down. “Ugh, my T-shirt is soaking and the duvet. Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” said Marla. “Don’t worry about that and I’ll give you one of mine.”
“Thanks,” Ellen replied, and then paused for a while before continuing, “In the dream there is this corridor and I’m wandering down it, and I see this bed and there is someone lying on it. When I get there… and it takes a while… I notice that it is a man. He’s asleep. He looks normal.” She stopped and closed her eyes. “But then his face changes... his skin flakes off... his face begins to rot and his eyes are gone, and his hair falls out, and it seems to take forever, and then he looks at me. I can’t move. Then he gets up real slow and I really want to move, but I still can’t. I’m stuck. And he cannot talk because he has no tongue. His mouth is this big, black hole where there should be something. I scream and the screams echo, but no one comes, and I try to run, but I can’t.”
“Go on.”
“Then he stands up and…” Ellen stopped.
“I’m here, Ellen,” Marla said. “Go on.”
Ellen took a deep breath. “Then he grabs my arm and he sinks his teeth into it, and I’m yelling even louder, but I can’t run. My body is frozen. And I just stare. All I can do is watch as he rips the flesh from my arm and then he sinks his teeth in, and again and again. He’s pulling the skin and muscle, and it hurts so much. I can’t stop screaming. Then he moves even closer. He bites at my arm, higher and higher, getting nearer to my face, and I stil
l can’t move. I’m frozen.
“I can sense someone behind me, but they don’t come to help. So, I turn my face, but I can’t see anyone, yet I know there is someone there, watching. I don’t know who, and I scream for them to help me, but they are hiding. Then I hear someone laughing, but they are far away. I turn back and the pain is overwhelming, and I feel sick to my stomach. I try to run, but I feel each tendon in my arm snapping. Then his face is in front of mine, and I can see the skin rotting and the dead, empty sockets where his eyes used to be, and the maggots, and the smell of... of death. Then he opens his mouth and I look down into the big, black hole inside. I try to scream out, but I can’t this time, and the fear feels like a pit that surrounds me and I am falling backwards into darkness.”
Marla shook her head and stared at her sister. “That’s horrible. You dream this every night?”
“Yes,” Ellen answered softly. “It’s always exactly the same. But that’s not all. There is a voice. It sounds like a man’s, but I cannot tell if it is one person or many, as it seems to echo. It’s like I’m thinking things but someone else is speaking them, so I can’t tell if they are my thoughts as it’s so confused. He tells me that this is a warning and that I have to run, but I just can’t. He tells me this will be the last warning before the end. Then pain overwhelms me in the dark, but for some reason I do not die, and the thing continues to bite at my flesh until I wake.”
“Jesus.”
Ellen looked at Marla and nodded. “I know. Three weeks of it. This is why I don’t want to sleep. I read the newspaper articles about that scientist, and his dream is the same as mine – every single detail. Did you know he won the Nobel Prize? He’s not crazy; he’s an intelligent man, Marl. Maybe it is my imagination, but why would I dream this exact same thing every single night? My nightmares started on the same day as his. The date was in one of the articles. You do believe me?”
Marla nodded. “I believe you and I think the dream sounds horrific. When I saw you sleeping it scared me, but there are no such things as zombies. I’m sorry, but I think you are stressed and I want to take you to see my doctor. Maybe he can help.”
“By giving me sleeping pills?! My GP gave me those and then I slept even longer, and it was even harder to wake up. No way!” cried Ellen, kicking off the duvet and getting up. “I thought you would support me.”
Marla stood. “I do support you.”
“But you don’t believe me?”
“I believe that you believe it…”
“That’s not the same thing!”
Marla nodded. “I know. Maybe lie back down. Try to get some rest.”
Ellen scowled. “Because that’s going to solve everything?” she asked. “I go back to sleep and that thing is waiting.”
“I’m going to make some tea,” said Marla, walking away. “It’s five o’clock nearly, so let’s just get up. I’ll make a drink and you have a shower. I’m sorry. You’re my sister. I do support you.”
“Coffee.”
“What?”
“Make mine a coffee,” Ellen replied. “Strong...”
Week 2
Sunday, 12
A cold breeze snakes around her shoulders as she steps forwards, her feet making not a sound on the ground. The light is fading. A lone bulb swings from the ceiling, back and forth, back and forth, but the chain fails to creak. This still quiet looms while in the distance shadows play, running patterns around these old, decaying walls. Something lies there, silent, upon the rusting iron bed that fills the space between them.
She creeps forwards, her tiptoes making no impact as though gliding through the air. Looking down she realises her feet are indeed walking. How surreal. The bed moves closer and its occupant shifts ever so slowly as she drifts, drawing nearer to where the shadows dance. Above her head the bulb continues to rock soundlessly, in time with her movements. She shivers as the air grows colder still.
He is sleeping, this man. His face is fine, almost beautiful, and at peace, yet pale, so very pale, in stark contrast to the deep ebony of his hair. She can hear his breathing, low and regular. Opening his eyes, he looks at her and she smiles, watching his sensual lips curve upwards as he raises himself up. As she brushes her hair out of her sleepy eyes, his grin widens, welcoming, but the perfect white teeth stumble out one by one, floating through the air in slow motion like petals on the wind, sliding to the floor. They make not a sound. The blood rushes to her face as she feels a wave of nausea flood over her.
The man’s eyes draw her in, but they too are different. White in colour, their irises erased, lain waste, and lines of red cross them. He smiles this rancid smile as bile slides out from between his cracking lips. It drips upon her hand, burning into the skin, searing, and she withdraws it quickly, but it remains there, stuck on top of the bed. Why doesn’t it move? She stares down at her skin, turning red from the liquid, the surface bubbling. A stinging pain spears through to her palm and fear overwhelms her senses.
She turns to run. Heaving her body in the direction of the exit, she sprints wildly, not daring to look back. She feels the movement, slow but sure, like gliding through a thick fog. Yet her body is still there, standing by the bed as the thing gapes at her, his eyes fixed on her face, the mouth opening wider to reveal a black endless nothing. She screams, but its existence is crushed in the silence. Out of the corner of her eye she notices the tick-tock sway of the bulb flickering, and she senses she is doomed; knows it as surely as the fact that the heavy chain will swing again, unrelenting.
His face moves closer, the skin beginning to flake like old paint turning away from a wall, the edges creeping up. Then it falls. Beneath, the muscles continue to move as he smiles. Blood oozes. Dread ravages her as fear caresses her body like fingers, icy cold and unforgiving. She turns again and races in panic towards the exit, yet she finds herself in the exact same place, her feet rooted to the ground like the trunk of a tree, her arms solid like branches. She imagines her hair as the leaves, blowing in the breath that he now turns on her, sickening in its putrid scent of death and decay. The maggots swarm across his bloodied face as he opens his mouth wider. The yawn seems to swallow her whole in its darkness as a jagged, ripping pain overwhelms her; the sharp teeth scraping, gnawing at her neck, plucking at the strings inside the skin. In the distance comes the incongruous ripple of laughter.
Marla woke with a scream that bounced around the room, her vest soaked in sweat. Beside her, Peter jolted from his sleep.
Tuesday, 14
Walking out of the bathroom wrapped in a purple towel, Marla picked up her mobile and dialled a number. Taking a deep breath, she waited until the person answered. “Hi, Tommy, I was wondering if you could get me a few things.”
“Hey, stranger,” he replied, “it’s been a while. How about hi, Tommy, how are you?”
“Eh, sorry,” she said, sitting down on her bed. “I wasn’t thinking, how are you?”
“I’m good. How’s things?”
“Good. Now that’s out of the way, I need a rifle, a second Glock, similar to the one I’ve got, and a hell of a lot of ammo. You know what I like. Plus I want to get a new car. It doesn’t have to be new, but something sturdy. It has to have reinforced windows that are tinted, really tough and it needs to run pretty good on petrol. It has to be safe.”
Tommy laughed. “Apart from the fact that we haven’t spoken in a really long time and you’re calling me up out of the blue to ask about guns, of all things, which aren’t exactly easy to get by the way, with the small detail that they’re illegal. Are you expecting an invasion?”
Marla chuckled. “You know me. I like to be prepared.”
“Okay, but are you sure you need all this?”
“Yep and I have savings, so don’t worry, I can pay for it all,” she insisted.
“I wasn’t worried about that. We’ve known each other long enough. If you really need this, I can get it for you, for old time’s sake. In two weeks.”
“Can you get it sooner?” Mar
la asked impatiently.
“What is up with you exactly?” Tommy asked, a serious tone appearing in his voice.
She took a deep breath. He was a friend she’d known for years, so surely she could tell him anything? “Something’s wrong, Tommy,” Marla said at last. “I’ll be honest with you. Something bad is coming. I don’t know if it is something to do with the government or what, but, seriously, please get yourself fixed up – expect the unexpected.”
He chuckled. “You’re talking crazy talk.”
“Yeah, but I’m not the only one. You watched the news lately?”
“You mean all this stuff about weird dreams and that crack-head zombie guy? He started all that crap and people are just having a laugh!” said Tommy.
“I think there’s something serious behind it all. Not zombies, obviously. That’s just for teenage boys reading too many comics, but I think there’s something behind it all.”
“Like some conspiracy?”
Marla sighed. “After all the shit we’ve seen in our lives, you know anything is possible.”
Tommy sighed. “I guess. Okay, I’ll try to get this stuff by the end of the week. Maybe then you can come over for it and we can chat over a beer. It’s been a while.”
“Yeah, Tommy, I’d like that,” said Marla. “I need to get my money sorted and I’ll transfer it to you. A beer would be cool. A good old catch up.”
“Yeah, like the old days where I drink you under the table, but you still manage to beat me at pool.”
“Ha, yeah, I’ve been missing all those arse kickings I gave you,” said Marla with a giggle. “Later, Tommy.”
“You take care, girl.”
“As always. Someone’s gotta.”
“See ya.”
Wednesday, 15
“Come on, Ellen, just try!” said Marla, standing with her hands on her hips.
“I’m not going in there.”
“Look, I’m not getting back in the car and driving anywhere until I teach you this. Understand?”
I Dream of Zombies Page 2