“We could just wait a few minutes and I’ll try that door,” he suggested nodding to the black-painted one marked ‘Private’. “Perhaps this village is untouched.”
“I hope so,” said Marla walking away.
“Where are you going?”
“Little ladies’ room – wanna come?” she joked.
He laughed. “Couldn’t you have gone on the boat?”
“I didn’t think of it,” she replied, waving her hand in the air. “And it’s a woman’s prerogative to change her mind.”
Tommy shook his head and leaned over the bar, taking in the mellow scent of beer and debating how long to wait before knocking on the black door.
Marla dropped her rucksack on the table outside the door to the women’s toilets, gripped her gun and pushed the door open. The first thing she saw was a clean basin and a pink bar of soap. There was an overpowering fragrance of roses. To the left were four cubicles. Bending down she peered beneath them all to check there was no one there and stood up again. One window was open, but the gap was not large enough for anyone to squeeze through unless they were about three years old.
Marla headed into the first cubicle and rested her gun on the windowsill. Turning, she pulled down her jeans and knickers, and squatted. Gazing up at the door, which was emblazoned with a brashly coloured advert for some guy who would pick you up in his car if you got drunk, rather than you having to drive home and risk an accident, she listened to the faint whistle of a bird outside. It sounded like a robin, but she could not be sure. Such sounds reminded her of how things used to be, before they became so complicated and unsure.
Rickslaw must be near here; it just had to be. And there had to be people. It was such a long way from London and they had not seen any dead-lookers for days, not since that time on the bridge. Marla winced at the memory. Adjusting her underwear and jeans, she stood up and flushed the toilet. Hoping that Tommy had found out about a bus, she opened the door and walked out to the sink. Glancing in the mirror, she turned on the hot tap and ran her hands under the water. Shit! The gun! Idiot! Shaking her head at her reflection, Marla wandered back into the toilet cubicle and picked up her weapon from the windowsill. Backing up, she turned and the hideous face that met her eyes made her freeze as fear seared her with its icy breath.
As Marla retreated in fright, the backs of her knees made contact with the hard, ceramic toilet and her legs almost buckled beneath her. Pulse racing, her left arm flew back to prevent her falling backwards on to the toilet seat and as she reached out her right arm for the wall to keep her balance, she dropped her gun in the process. Cursing, Marla raised both arms and forced the dead thing in front of her away as its jaws opened and closed, its teeth biting at the air just inches from her throat. It was heavy, resembling the weight of a drunk’s body, unable to lift itself.
The stench of rotting flesh filled Marla’s nostrils. The gun lay on the floor and she could not bend to pick it up. If she did, the dead-looker would be on top of her and she had to keep it off. As she moved her head to the side, droplets of blood bounced on to her shoulders. Shivering in disgust, she pushed harder against the torso of the thing. Sharp ribs met her soft palms and as she exerted more effort she felt the ribcage bend slightly. Something cracked. Her hands were going to sink into the stomach cavity, she realised, as her breathing became more rapid.
Shaking herself to get her wits together, Marla moved her hands up in a simultaneous action towards the shoulders of the dead, trying to find a resting place from which to push, as its teeth chomped at the side of her cheek. She swerved and its mouth sucked in her hair. As she tried to move further, she felt her head being tugged. The thing was eating her hair and its bloody sunken eyes glared into her own. She screamed, but she sensed it was not loud enough.
Pushing with her left hand against the dead-looker’s shoulder with all her might, Marla swept her right hand down to her jeans and rummaged in the pocket for her knife. Trembling, she felt the hard ridge of the handle, and jerked it to and fro in a bid to free it from the sheath it was in. Resisting the urge to panic, she leaned into the dead thing again and then swung her face away from the jagged teeth, banging her head on the side of the cubicle as she did so. A dazed feeling wrapped itself around her and she widened her eyes, taking in the ripped skin that dangled off the skeletal cheeks beneath. Its putrid stench was choking her.
Marla breathed in, gritted her teeth and shook the knife more vigorously while pushing the shoulder of the creature with every essence of her strength, but it did not relent. She moved her head as bile sprinkled from its lips and down the front of her T-shirt. It stank. She almost expected it to burn through the material like acid and was surprised when it did not. The knife shook loose and she pulled it from her pocket, embedding it in the forehead of the thing in one swift movement. The eyes of the dead showed no change of expression, but its arms collapsed to its sides and it took a step backwards as if in bewilderment, except she was sure it did not feel. As the cadaver slumped to the ground, she leaned against the cubicle wall, exhausted.
Panting and trembling slightly, she picked up the gun from the floor, pushed it into her jean pocket and stepped over the corpse. Moving to the basin, she opened the hot water tap with a shaky hand and rinsed the knife before wiping it on a towel. Glancing in the mirror, she saw that her top was stained with red and grey liquid, and she grimaced. Pulling it over her head, she threw it in the basin and opened the door. Marla breathed out at the sight of such a large room, seeming to offer safety compared to the claustrophobia of the cubicle. Unzipping her rucksack, she reached in for her blue vest and tugged it out.
“What on earth happened?” demanded a shocked looking Tommy striding towards her. “You’ve got blood on your arms.”
“I’m okay,” she muttered, pulling the vest over her head. “It isn’t mine.”
He averted his eyes from the black bra – now was not the time. “But what…”
“There was one in there. They’re here, Tommy. This village isn’t safe. They’re here.”
He opened the door of the toilet and glanced inside. Marla heard him suck in his breath as she zipped up the rucksack.
“You had to kill him with your knife? You’re trembling…”
She nodded as she rubbed at the bloodstain on her upper arm. “Can we just get out of here, please, like now,” she mumbled, brushing a stray hair back off her face.
“Okay,” Tommy replied, opening the pub door. “We’ll find a car and that’s it.”
“Thanks,” she said, turning, “but, Tommy, please don’t mention this happened.”
“Right.”
Marla walked out into the daylight and he followed behind, troubled by his thoughts of what she must have just gone through on her own when he had not been there to protect her. Instead, he’d been waiting idly by, checking out the beers and helping himself to one. He scowled.
“Everything alright, Marl?” asked Ellen.
“Yeah,” Marla lied. “Just no one home. I reckon we should just find some cars. This guy can start anything.”
Tommy put on a grin and nodded. Striding ahead, he led the way across the car park and glanced into the passenger windows. Billy dropped his bags on the ground by Ellen and did the same. “This one,” he called out after checking a silver-coloured Citroen. “Door open and car keys still in it. Left in a hurry I’d say, which doesn’t bode well,” he added, lowering his voice so that the rest of the group could not hear him.
“Result,” Tommy called out. “And yeah, same feeling.” He walked between the vehicles and stopped at a black Mini Cooper with a white roof.
“That one’s cool,” Barney yelled out as he ran towards him. “Can we get that one?”
Bob charged after him, barking.
“Hey, Bob, stop it,” Tommy said as he leaned over and fussed the Labrador behind the ears. “No talking.”
Bob wined and darted over to Billy, who laughed. “Like I’m going to disagree with your dad here,” he told him. The dog j
ust wagged his tail and his tongue lolled out.
“Right then, the Mini it is, even though I’m far too tall for it,” Tommy exclaimed.
“Yeah!” said Barney, punching the air. “Thanks, Tommy.”
“Sure,” he replied, sliding into the driver’s seat.
Marla, Ellen, Harold and Peggy brought the bags over, and they began to pack them into the cars.
“I wonder where everyone is,” Peggy commented as Billy closed the boot of the Citroen.
“I was wondering the same thing,” he replied, glancing around the car park. “Perhaps people got evacuated from here too.”
“But this far?” asked Harold, tutting. “I thought folks would be safe this far.”
“Come on,” said Billy, “That’s the last of the bags, so who’s coming with me in the Citroen?”
“Mini,” Barney answered, cocking his head to one side. “Please…”
Tommy wrapped his arm around the boy’s shoulders. “He’s with me then. Go on, get in the car. I had to hotwire it, so no one touch anything.”
“What does that mean?”
Marla laughed. “Don’t ask, Barney. I’m with Tommy. Harold and Peggy, can you go with Billy? Great. Ellen?”
“Me and Ruth will ride with you in the Mini,” she replied, “even if it is a squash.”
Barney sighed. “It’s a cool car. The coolest ever!”
Harold and Peggy wandered over to the Citroen and got in while the others got comfortable in the black Mini Cooper.
“Okay, so we just need to follow the A345, which is here, Marlborough Road, to the left,” said Marla as Tommy drove out of the car park. She turned the map in her lap and glanced out the passenger window. “Seems a nice place, Pewsey. Quaint and old-fashioned.”
“I like boat,” said Ruth.
“Me too,” Ellen agreed, stroking the little girl’s hair.
The mini drove down the road, past green fields on either side. Marla squinted in the sun and turned down the visor. Glancing in her side mirror, she saw the Citroen following behind. The pavement was deserted. They passed warehouses on the left-hand side and then drove across the railway line, but still there was no sign of life.
“Where are all the people?” asked Barney, voicing what everyone was thinking.”
“I don’t know,” Ellen replied.
Marla glanced at Tommy, but he was concentrating on driving. Marlborough Road ran into North Street and residential houses lined it.
“There’s someone,” Barney remarked, pointing, “Look!”
The girls glanced to the left and Tommy slowed down slightly. A man was walking along the pavement, but he had his neck bent and his gait was uneven. His leg seemed to twitch as he sauntered along. As the Mini crept alongside him on the opposite side of the road, he turned his face slowly and then stepped off the pavement, his body jolting at the impact.
Ellen gasped. “They’re here?”
Tommy sped up and they drove past. Marla glanced in the side mirror to see Billy staring at the dead-looker in the middle of the road. The side of the Citroen knocked it, but it seemed oblivious to the hit. She watched as it crawled.
Ellen tapped Marla. “What does that mean if they’re here?”
“I don’t know,” she replied. “I guess it spread.”
“What about Mum?”
“I’m sure she’s fine. I feel it that she’s okay. Please don’t worry.”
“You don’t seem surprised,” said Ellen.
Marla let out a deep breath. “I saw one in the pub. I didn’t want to worry anyone.”
“Oh God, but you’re alright?”
Marla shrugged. “I guess. I didn’t want to think about it. We’ll find Rickslaw. We’ll be fine.”
“We’ll be okay,” Barney echoed, glancing at Ellen and she smiled at him.
“Jemima ‘kay,” said Ruth, snuggling up against her.
Tommy drove past a fire station and a camping ground, and turned into Church Street. At the corner, a group of three people loitered. Looking dirty and unkempt, they bumped one another as they walked slowly towards the car as it sped by.
“Turn left here,” Marla instructed. “This goes into Swan Road and then Everleigh, which was the road Eric mentioned. It’s the second right. After that we keep going and just keep looking for a sign for Rickslaw.”
Nodding, Tommy glanced in the mirror at Billy in the car behind them.
Marla gazed out the passenger window. They drove over a small bridge that spanned the River Avon and the scenery switched to simply fields again; the middle of nowhere. In the distance two thin figures wandered slowly across the greenery, disturbing the perfect view. Barney looked in the same direction while his sister sat on Ellen’s lap and played with her doll. Bob lay silently on the floor with his head on his paws. Now and then his eyebrows would twitch as he glanced up at the boy.
“I guess Rickslaw will be more of an office building than a place where people live,” said Marla as Tommy turned on to Everleigh Road.
“I hope this isn’t a wild goose chase and that it’s still there,” he replied.
The narrow road wove its way uphill between tall, silver birch trees. Tommy drove at a medium speed and carefully as there was only enough space for a single vehicle. Soon there was forest on both sides, the branches forming an arch that left the road dimly lit. Marla gazed up at the yellow-green circles of light peeking through the dense leaves. It was beautiful, but she had a feeling that beauty had no place here.
Ellen gestured to the little girl to glance out. “See the trees, Ruth? Pretty?”
“Milton Wood, according to the map,” said Marla. “I don’t know how far we should go.”
“I don’t like this one bit,” muttered Tommy softly to her. “I can’t see far on either side and although it’s bright now, in a couple of hours it won’t be.”
“We haven’t seen one of the, ahem, since we passed over the bridge over the river,” Marla replied, glancing round. “Maybe they haven’t come this far.”
“Perhaps they stick around places where there are the most people,” suggested Ellen. “That would make sense.”
“Who does?” asked Barney.
“No one, honey,” Ellen told him.
The boy shuffled in his seat and bent down to hug Bob who was more than glad of the attention.
Tommy cocked his head to one side. “They’re everywhere and I like to see them coming.”
Marla sighed. “Well, let’s try to be positive.”
“Can you try all the stations on the radio, Marla, and try to see if you can find any announcements,” Tommy suggested. “Maybe they’re still running them.”
“Sure.” She turned on the car radio as low as possible and flipped through the channels. White noise filled the air. Opening the bag by her feet, Marla took out her handgun and rested it in her lap. Closing it again, she glanced out the window and hoped.
Tommy focused on the road ahead, which continued to creep uphill. Light was fading and he glanced at his watch: 6.05 p.m. Three hours, tops, until nightfall. He decided to give it an hour and a half. If there was no sign of this Rickslaw by then he would have to find a safe place to park the car and for them to sleep; somewhere in the middle of nowhere, preferably, with a clear line of sight in every direction.
The trees lined up like high, brown walls on either side of the road. Marla tried not to show the concern she was feeling on her face, so that her sister would not see it, but deep down she was scared. In common with Tommy, she liked to know what was coming and she hated to be surprised. If she could see it, she could work out how to deal with it, but if a herd of the dead were to appear in the road, what would happen then? Sliding down in her seat, she willed herself to stay calm and positive.
‘If there are any survivors…’
“That’s it,” she gasped. “Announcement!”
“Great. Don’t turn it up,” instructed Tommy. “Just listen. In case I miss something cos I’ve gotta focus on the road.”
‘…those are the facilities in the north. Near Salisbury there is a facility located in a town called Rickslaw, near Pewsey. It is not signposted. You will find the facility by following Marlborough Road into Swan Road and then Everleigh Road. Drive up the narrow road uphill, past Milton Wood. Be careful of anyone acting aggressively and stay away from strangers. The area is still being cleared of the living dead.’
“So they’ve named them now, officially,” remarked Ellen. “That’s something new.”
“Does that mean they’ve been able to clear other areas?” asked Marla. “Do you think some are safe?”
“Shush,” said Tommy.
‘The road narrows between the trees. Be careful in this area. Do not make any noise. Drive straight. When you reach the facility there will be guards. Do not be afraid and wait. We have food and we offer protection. Violence will not be tolerated and gangs will be dealt with strongly. Every newcomer will have to be quarantined. If there are any survivors…’
“Turn it off,” said Tommy.
Ellen glanced up. “Why?”
“Best to lower the noise…”
“But the car is louder,” Barney pointed out.
Marla grinned to herself. The boy had a point, but she turned off the radio anyway.
“How old do you think the message is?” asked Ellen.
“No idea,” Marla replied.
Ellen bit her lip. “Do you think the government still exists even? Could the message be fake? It’s been a week since Eric left that note for us.”
Marla swallowed and glanced at Tommy. She saw a flicker of fear travel across his face and then he hid it. “The good stuff is what we’ve got to think about,” he said. “I’ve had enough of the bad.”
Ellen smiled. “Okay, sorry. Something good has gotta happen, hasn’t it?”
“According to the rules of karma, I’d say yes,” said Marla.
The road continued to eel its way through the closely knit trees until it turned right and then opened up as the foliage became less dense. On either side fields stretched out as far as the eye could see in the fading light. There were no buildings at all and no structures except for a series of structures that spun in the breeze. And no figures moved anywhere, to Marla’s relief.
I Dream of Zombies Page 30