I Dream of Zombies

by Johnstone, Vickie

  Tommy threw open the passenger door and ran towards his dog, lying slumped on the concrete. “Hey, boy,” he said softly as he checked over his body for bites. The Labrador’s tongue rolled out of his mouth as he tried to sit up with a yelp. When Tommy felt along Bob’s back, he whined, but there were no wounds of any kind. As he continued to stroke Bob’s fur, the dog craned his head up slowly and finally got to his feet. He limped forward, stopped and struggled forwards again.

  “What’s wrong with him?” asked Marla, leaning out of the car.

  “I don’t know,” Tommy answered. “He hasn’t been bitten. I’d have said a car or bike had hit him, but not nowadays. Who did this, Bob?” he asked as though expecting an answer. The Labrador whined, turned and limped back a couple of steps. When he reached his owner, he took a few paws forward again. Tommy picked him up and carried him to the jeep. Putting him in the back, he closed the door and slid into the passenger seat. “I have a bad feeling,” he said.

  Marla frowned. “How so?”

  “I think someone might have kicked him or hit him with something.”

  “But who?” she asked and then a sense of dread came over her. “What about Ellen and Devan? Could someone have attacked them? Maybe they had to run?”

  Tommy looked sombre and made no reply. Marla turned on the engine and drove forwards. “Shit, where could they have gone?”

  “Not far, as they’re on foot,” he replied. “Bob wanted to go in this direction, so that’s my guess. Keep going straight to the bottom of this road. We might see them there.”

  “What if they’re hiding somewhere, Tommy?”

  “Don’t think. Just drive.”

  Marla tried to calm herself as she drove to the end of the road, turned the corner and slowed down the car. “Can you see her?” Before Tommy could answer, she spotted two figures. “Hell, look! Across the roundabout and up the road – that’s them!”

  “He’s got a gun in his hand,” said Tommy.

  “Must be hers. Bastard! What’s he doing?”

  “Something didn’t seem right with him to me. My first instinct said so, and I ignored it.” Tommy checked his SIG Sauer was loaded as Marla drove straight across the mini-roundabout, causing the jeep to bounce. In the distance, Devan turned his head, spotted them, and started to run with Ellen. Tommy pointed. “Look! There’s a sign for the station.”

  “But surely the trains aren’t operating?” gasped Marla.

  “Electricity is still working because they’re evacuating people...”

  “Oh, God, no.”

  ***

  “Hurry up,” Devan ordered, pushing Ellen forward.

  “What about the dog?”

  “Just walk.”

  Ellen tripped slightly and clenched her hands into fists as she did as he said. Focusing ahead, she tried to keep the myriad strands of panic from overwhelming her senses. The main thing was to remain strong and wait for an opportunity to escape. It was what her sister would have done under the same circumstances. The street was deserted, the only things breaking the quiet being the soft step of her trainers on the pavement and the heavier breathing of the man behind her. Ellen did not allow herself to imagine what he wanted. Feeling the gun in her back, she crossed the road, glancing up at the buildings. It was strange how the place was so desolate. Where were they, the undead people whom she expected to see wandering here? A sigh escaped her lips and she swallowed down her rising fear. A crow fluttered across the sky, silhouetted against the sun.

  “Go right,” Devan muttered.

  Gritting her teeth, Ellen obeyed. She drew in her breath as she spotted the familiar-looking outline of a man leaning against a tree, gazing at her. He reminded her of the man she had seen outside Tommy’s place when she had last been there, but how could that be? “Can you see him, Devan?”

  “Who? No,” he spat, “there’s no one there, and my name isn’t Devan. It’s Mark.”

  “Mark?”

  “Cross here – over the roundabout.”

  Ellen nodded and did as he instructed, before wandering down the next road. A sense of dread slid over her skin. Why had he lied about his name? Trying to calm herself, she asked him, “Why are you doing this? I haven’t done anything to you?”

  “No, nothing,” he snapped, “but you would have left without me. I could see the way you were looking at me, you and your friends. You were all going to leave me. I had to shoot that girl, but you don’t care.”

  “I do care, and we weren’t going to leave you. We would have taken you with us.”

  “Doubt that,” he scoffed, kicking a stone. “I know your type. You pretend to be so fucking nice to people, but you’re not really. You just lure them in and use them.”

  “But I haven’t done anything to make you think this. How can you do this to me? Put the gun down and we can go back. Please! I won’t tell them. We can just pretend this didn’t happen I know you’re stressed because of…”

  “Shut up. I did the thing you were all too scared to do, and if it wasn’t for that stupid dog, the girl wouldn’t have got bitten, but Tommy couldn’t control his bloody dog.”

  Ellen bit her tongue, knowing it would be a mistake to provoke him by arguing. “We can still be okay. Just take me back.”

  He stopped and stared her in the eyes. “I picked you out on that coach right from the start,” he said, waving the gun as he spoke. “You looked like the kind of girl my brother would end up with, but the type who would never give me a second glance. I thought my luck might change. I’m a good person, but bad things keep happening…”

  “But I did speak to you,” said Ellen. “I thought we were friends, Devan.” She froze as she the wrong name slipped out.

  “That’s not me. Stop calling me that. My name is Mark. Devan is my brother’s middle name.”

  “Your brother? Where is he?”

  He scowled. “Dead! He’s fucking dead. Now walk faster.”

  “Where are you taking me? What do you want from me?” Ellen pleaded.

  “Shut up and walk!”

  Ellen swallowed down her fright and did as the man said. There was no reasoning with him. The events of the past few days had pushed him over the edge and she could not guess what else he was capable of. Whatever had happened to his brother she dared not ask. As she walked, Ellen hoped Marla would come after her. Her sister had to realise she was gone by now and who with. It was only a matter of time, she hoped. But as she turned the corner, she spotted a sign for the station and her stomach fell. Through the quiet burst the rattle of a train approaching.

  “Go right,” Devan muttered.

  Gritting her teeth, Ellen obeyed. She drew in her breath as she spotted the familiar-looking outline of a man leaning against a tree, staring at her. “Can you see him, Devan?”

  “Who? No,” he spat, “and my name isn’t Devan. It’s Mark.”

  “Mark?”

  “Cross here – over the roundabout.”

  Ellen nodded and did as he instructed, before wandering down the next road. A sense of dread slid over her skin. Why had he lied about his name?

  “I picked you out on that coach, right from the start,” Mark remembered. “You looked like the kind of girl my brother would end up with, but the type who would never give me a second glance.”

  “But I did speak to you,” said Ellen. “I thought we were friends, Devan.”

  “That’s not me. It’s my brother’s middle name.”

  “Where is your brother?”

  He scowled. “Dead. Now walk faster.”

  Ellen swallowed down her fright and did as the man said. Marla had to realise she was gone by now and who with. It was only a matter of time, she hoped. As she turned the corner, she saw a sign for the station and her stomach fell. Through the quiet burst the rattle of a train approaching.

  “Faster,” Mark pressured. “We’re getting on it.”

  “You can’t be serious?” Ellen gasped, turning.

  “Don’t do that. Run, but do
n’t try anything, because I’m right behind you and I have a gun.”

  “My sister...”

  “Just do it,” he growled, pushing the weapon into her back.

  Ellen began to sprint towards the station across the litter-strewn road. She ran into the building with Mark on her heels and through the ticket area. A man sat slumped in a chair and she did not look twice at him. Some luggage lingered in the aisle, abandoned or unclaimed. As she walked out on to the platform the train entered the station. From the driver’s cab a man’s face stared forwards. At least he was alive, she thought, as she turned to look at Mark. He glared back and pushed her towards the nearest stationary carriage.

  “It’s dangerous,” Ellen pleaded. “There could be those things on there.”

  “I have a gun,” Mark replied, “and you saw the driver – he looks fine. He’s probably come from a town that hasn’t been hit yet and this train can get us to safety fast.”

  “But it takes time for them to change...”

  “You’re wasting time...”

  What about me? What are you going to do?” she asked, scared out of her wits.

  “Get on the train!” he growled.

  “Ellen!”

  The girl spun round at the sound of Marla’s voice, but she could not see her. Mark turned the handle of the carriage door and pushed her inside. Ellen tried to cry out, but the sound stuck in her throat where panic was rising, swift and determined. As the door closed she caught sight of her sister, running on to the platform. She was too late, seconds too late. The train sailed out.

  A chill ran up Ellen’s spine as she slowly turned around. The carriage was half full of people. Some looked normal, healthy, like herself, while others sat slumped, staring at nothing without any discernible expression. One young girl sitting by the window was being sick on the floor while the man opposite gazed ahead, not appearing to register her actions. The eeriest thing of all was the silence. No one at all spoke or even moved, and Ellen knew what that meant. Glancing at the various faces around her, she could not see one that had changed fully, but it was only a matter of time, that much she knew. She had seen it too many times already.

  Ellen looked at Mark with a pleading expression, but he just smirked. “Go into the next carriage,” he instructed, keeping his voice low.

  She glanced around again. So far, none of the people had looked their way. “Why?” she whispered.

  “Because there are too many in here.”

  “They haven’t changed and you know it takes some time. There might be people in the other carriage who have.”

  “And your point is?” hissed Mark. “Just do as I say. I’m the one with the gun.”

  “Yeah, you’re the one with the gun,” muttered Ellen, walking slowly towards the right.

  Taking a deep breath, she held it in as she walked in semi-slow motion down the aisle of the carriage. Each face she passed on either side was downturned. They had it, she could tell, all of them, and they would transform; she saw nothing in their expressions that promised otherwise. She guessed they were pretty far gone as their eyes stared blankly at nothing. As she shuffled forwards, Ellen felt the blood pumping through her head, pressure coming down on all sides and pushing her shoulders. Her feet felt as though they were weighted down by lead as she stepped slowly, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other, pushing down the nauseating fear that was fast rising. Slow, just walk slow.

  “Open it,” she heard Mark say as they reached the door to the next carriage. She gazed through, thankful that the division was made of glass and there would be no surprises. More people sat beyond. It was much busier and the bodies were slumped, heads angled downward. I will force myself to walk forward, into the fire. No one looked remotely animated. She glanced around, searching for some semblance of humanity and normal behaviour, but she could not see it. Glazed eyes gazed at her from the nearest seats. She had been noticed. Feeling sick, Ellen peered back over her shoulder, only to find that some of the passengers were turning their heads, ever so slowly, as if they were underwater where silence reigned regardless.

  “They’ve noticed us,” Ellen whispered as she felt the butt of the gun ram into her back. Trembling, she reached out her finger towards the button on the door. It flashed and opened automatically. The creak of it broke the silence and her hands formed fists by her sides. Nausea crept into her throat as she trod forward. All around her, faces were turning; ill-looking with empty countenances. Whether they were confused or interested, she could not tell. They did not attack. Why? Ellen surmised the passengers had either only just changed or were on the verge of it. Her whole body began to tremble.

  “Walk!” Mark hissed.

  “Where?” she whispered as her heart pounded. Her head felt dizzy and she blinked, willing herself not to faint.

  To the left by the window she noticed a figure get up, the way it rose so agonisingly slow. Ellen stepped forward. All of the faces in the front of the carriage were turning her way. The nearest ones stared intently and began to twitch. Ellen smelt the rotten stench and then glanced down to see pools of sick, the colour of blood, between the seats. Walk! Don’t look! Trying to still her breathing, she continued down the aisle.

  The man by the window was now standing and his focus was glued on her. Ellen could not prevent herself from peering back. His bloodshot eyeballs protruded from skin drawn tightly like a sheet of grey paper across his face. Slowly, he raised his hand as Ellen walked and she noticed that several of his fingers were missing; a grisly white bone stuck out from the end. Her breath caught in her throat and the mounting pressure around her head squeezed like a vice. He was gawking straight at her while the passengers who were now behind her, blocking the route back, began to stand. Ellen ran.

  “Stop... I’ll shoot!”

  Ellen did not care. If he shot her it would be a release; better than becoming one of these hellish creatures. She sprinted down the seemingly ever-stretching aisle towards the next glass door and banged the button without pausing to see what was on the other side. Adrenalin shot through her like a rocket, propelling her body forward. Without a backward glance she charged through the doorway. Behind her came the sound of footsteps, followed by a gunshot and then the gruesome moans of the dead cut through the air. Ellen imagined the empty, gaping mouths that she had seen so many times – the stuff of her nightmares – as the horrific cries met her ears. But they were behind her, as was he.

  She ran down the next carriage, blindly, not looking at the rows and rows of seated figures. The gut-wrenching stench of vomit mixed with blood and rotting flesh greeted her, and the realisation that these passengers had changed was not lost on her. Fearful to look in case she screamed, Ellen sprinted on as the deathly shadows rose on every side. Behind her the footsteps were closing in. Hitting the next button in panic, she could not resist the temptation to turn around. Mark was there, but he could not run. They held him. Hands pulled him towards the floor, teeth sinking into his arms and neck. His piercing screams of pain and anguish streamed through the carriage, filling it and consuming all else. “Help me!” he cried out, but Ellen let the door close.

  There were only a handful of seats around her and they were empty for some reason. Ellen found herself questioning it in the midst of her panic and then she noticed the circular, red compartment in front of her: a toilet. Stumbling around the door, she glanced down the carriage – shadows… everywhere. Sensing her presence immediately, the faces lurched upward, almost at once, as though one thought was shared by all of them, and then their bodies began to drift up like a wave. From the opposite direction, behind her, she heard pounding on the glass door. They did not have the intelligence to press a button, but their combined strength would smash right through. Swallowing, Ellen looked at the red door beside her. What if something was inside?

  Ahead of her the shadows rose and she knew she had no choice. As the rising tide of panic threatened to engulf her completely, Ellen pressed the ‘open’ button and wait
ed, trembling. Automatically, the door began to revolve. Shivering, she took a step back and glanced helplessly at the dead things staggering towards her, their mouths resembling open, gaping chasms of darkness; their movements slow as they dragged their lifeless bodies forward, relentless. Feeling as though her eyes were about to pop from their sockets as an intense cold seemed to swallow her whole, Ellen gazed at the door as it continued to open. It was taking too long. Please, just this one thing.

  “Nothing there,” she gasped in relief. “Oh God,” she cried as the bodies staggered towards her. A crash screamed out from the other side as an arm splintered the glass. Ellen flew into the toilet cubicle and hit the ‘close’ button at the back of it. Standing with her back rigid against the wall, she watched as the circular door moved slowly back. “Faster,” she whispered beneath her breath, “please, just move!” The milliseconds resembled hours as she watched and buzzing filled her ears; panic struggled to reduce her to a wreck.

  The unearthly cries of the dead filled the empty void where silence once ruled and Ellen coughed with fright. They were coming. Their footsteps brushed the floor of the train just outside. “Move,” she urged the creeping door. Then human screams washed over the top of everything and she imagined the creatures dragging Devan’s body down to the ground, ripping the still living flesh from his bones with their teeth. A face twisted and defiled, scabbed over with one working eye, stared back at her as its grimace dripped with fresh blood.

  The door closed, concealing him. “Ah, ah,” Ellen gasped, her hand shaking as she hit the ‘lock’ button beside her. A click sounded, loud and clear. Her back slid down the cold wall until she was sitting on the floor of the cubicle. Raising her hands above her head, Ellen crossed them and buried her face against her knees. Wails flickered through from outside and the terrified screams she heard were seared on her memory. She hoped and prayed the creatures would not work out how to open the door, because there was no way out. The cubicle did not even have a window. She was trapped.