by Matt Shaw
I grabbed the clear bag, from the side of the sink, and walked through to the bedroom. Definitely time to leave soon - can hear the birds singing in the trees outside. Tuneful. Nice. Not quite enough to make me believe everything is okay out there, though. They’re like the insects, that’s all.... blissfully unaware as they carry their tunes. Lucky bastards. Their only real concern was an infected cat - and I saw to that for them.
I turned to the bed and looked to the clothes I had prepared during the night. It’s weird - I can’t remember the last time I actually chose something to wear. In my old job, before I was made redundant, it was simply a case of black trousers, white shirt, black shoes. Even then, Jenny always prepared that for me. She was a good girl, Jenny. Always did the cleaning and ironing for me. I regret not doing more around the house for her.
I threw the clothes on, in haste. Black jeans - one of the only pairs I have left which doesn’t have holes in the knees. No sense going out in tatty clothes. They’ll only fall apart sooner. A white tee shirt. Black jumper to wear over the top - thick, heavy woolen one. I figured, if I got pinned down, it would take more effort, for whatever’s got me, to chew through it. Fuck them. I don’t want to make me an easy meal. They’ll have to fight for it, if they want to eat me. I’ll be fighting for them not to. Gloves next to the jeans - I’ll put those on last, just before I leave the house. They aren’t heavy duty gloves. Certainly not as heavy duty as I’d like them to be but they’re all I had. Marigolds from the kitchen. Pink ones, at that.
Jenny chose them.
They’ll be shit when it comes to stopping teeth getting through but, I figured, they’d at least protect my hands from any unfortunate splatters of blood I may encounter.
I picked them up from the bed and tucked them into the top of my jeans’ pockets. One on either side. A look in the full-length mirror, hanging on the wall, made me cringe. I looked like a gay burglar. Why did she insist on everything being pink. They do other colour marigolds. I’ve seen them, when I went shopping with her once. They do them in yellow too. Even in green. For a few pence more - you could even get heavy duty black ones. Why couldn’t she have chosen those? Any of those. Sickly green or lemon yellow would have been preferable to the pink.
It doesn’t matter.
Forget about it.
I’m not here to make a fashion statement. Remember that. Tell anyone who you meet up with - it’s called basic survival not ‘England’s Next Fashion Model’. No. Don’t tell them anything. It’s none of their business. Even if they do think I’m gay - so what? I don’t know them. If they’re that narrow minded enough to mock me for pink gloves, given the state the fucking world is in, let them. I just hope they don’t expect me to save them should I see them getting in any trouble. Let them rot.
Maybe I should just leave the gloves at home? Save the hassle.
CHAPTER TEN
Fully dressed, this is it. I’m both excited and apprehensive about leaving the house. I know I can’t stay here. Not with my thoughts, and my thoughts alone, for company. They’ve proven time, and time again, they won’t let me forget the past. They’re poisonous. Thoughts like that will only damage me in the long run. At least, leaving the house, I’ll have things to distract me. Other bits and pieces for me to focus on. That has to be better than staying in and going stir crazy. Has to be.
I grabbed the clear bag from where I dropped it, on the bed, along with the garden fork - having previously taken the spade downstairs - and walked to the top of the stairs. Okay. Wait a minute. Gather my thoughts. Make sure I’m not forgetting anything.
Okay.
Recap the plan. I’ll go into the kitchen and have a quick look out into the street. All being well and good it will be empty. Then I’ll take the opportunity to run out of the front door, with the first bag over my shoulder, and the keys to the car in my hand. A quick dash around to the back car-park, where I’m parked, I’ll unlock the car door and throw the first bag in. Be sure to close the car door when I go back to the house. I don’t need any of the fuckers crawling in there, or nearby looters trying to take control of it. Leave the car, run back to the house for the other bags until I have them all. I know it will be faster if I drive the car around but I don’t want to draw any unnecessary attention to myself and the car’s engine would be louder than my feet upon the pavement.
When the car is loaded and I’ve finished in the house, I’ll be sure to close - and lock - the front door. Might end up coming back to the house for something. If I do end up coming home - at least I know it will be safe in there.... unless any windows or doors are broken.
It’s good to have a fall back plan.
Well, in my head that makes perfect...... what the fuck was that?
I froze, at the top of the stairs, my heart pounding so hard in my chest I thought it’d break through and splatter the walls. There.... There it is again.... It sounds like the front door rattling in it’s frame.
Jenny? She’s come home?
No - it can’t be her. She knows how to get through the door. Never makes that much noise. And again - it’s rattling.... sounds as though someone is trying to break in.... looters? At this time of the morning?!
Motherfuckers!
A few more minutes, I would have been gone. I wouldn’t have cared. If they get in here, with me still here, God only knows what the outcome will be. I can’t see a fight being avoided.
Fuck! Just a few more minutes and everything would have been done! I would have been gone! Wouldn’t have given a fuck about them breaking in. God damn it! Couldn’t even give me that much of a break as to let me get away from the house. Had to make things more fucking difficult for me. What have I done in my life to be punished so much?
The door rattled harder.
This is my house. They aren’t having it.
I dropped the clear bag to the floor and swung the garden fork up, grabbing it with my spare hand so both hands were brandishing it like the weapon I fully intended it to be. I had hoped to get clear of the house - at least see what is what outside - before having to engage anyone or anything.
“Hope”. My old man used to always tell me there are two types of ‘hope’.
“Bob Hope and no hope,” he’d used to say, “and Bob Hope is dead.”
I’m starting to think he was right.
I crossed the lounge in mere seconds as I ran through to the front hallway. The door still rattling backwards and forwards as something, on the other side of the glass pane, was trying to get in. Without any hesitation, I yanked the door open - my eyes temporarily blinded by the daylight outside.... not that it mattered, I didn’t need to see. I trust forward with the garden fork and felt it connect. Heard it too. A squelching noise as it pierced through the rotten flesh.
Don’t pull back - keep pushing forward. Whatever I had stabbed fell to the floor and I couldn’t help but to fall on top of it, dragged down by my refusal to let go of the fork which was stuck in the head. It’s on it’s back now with me on top. Quick. I rolled off - unsure if it can still bite. Not sure how quick they are to die with something shoved through their diseased brains - only ever seen it in the movies. Other than the cat, who was decapitated, this was the first time I actually got to put this sort of thing into practice.
Slowly my eyes adjusted to the light - brilliant sunshine. A nice summer’s day. I turned onto my side to see my handiwork.... to see the dead.... postman.
What the fuck?
Overly large package, in his twitching hands, addressed to me.
What the fuck?
Screaming. I hear screaming. Someone screaming. Where? Who?
I sat up and span around to see the rest of the cul-de-sac. More of the dead coming towards me - angered that I’d killed the postman?
Children?!
Playing in the streets - dressed ready for school - waiting for their parents to come out of the houses?
Push-bikes?
A sprinkler firing jets of water on the prick’s garden.
/> Other neighbours, from across the road, looking on - in horror - at what I’ve done.
A voice - somewhere - calling for the police to be called.
Another voice - clearer than the last - saying they can see why my wife left me...
I don’t understand! Where are the monsters?
“He’s crazy!”
What the fuck?
~ FIN
THE BREAKDOWN
THE
BREAKDOWN
I
The unbearable silence between us did nothing to calm my temper or my aggressive driving. The latter of which was fueled further by the fact I could see it was making her uncomfortable. Sat in the passenger seat her left hand was gripping nervously on to the door’s arm rest and her right hand was dug into the leather of the seat; her red painted nails digging in. She’d best not mark it.
“Can you please slow down!” she said. I couldn’t tell if it were a question or an instruction. Either way I chose to ignore it. “Please...” she repeated. Again, I chose to ignore it. “This is stupid!”
I pressed my foot down on the accelerator until it was touching the floor and threw the car into the next left hand turn in the country road. I smirked when, out of the corner of my eye, I saw her clench her hands tighter as she braced herself for the impact she feared would be round the corner. No impact to be had. Just more open country road leading us to the next wooded area.
Sixtyfour miles per hour. These roads are ridiculous. One minute you’re driving through wide country lanes, with miles of visibility, surrounded by miles and miles of lush green fields and next you’re negotiating twisting turns through wooded areas where the corners get tighter and tighter with no, or little, warning. We’re back in a wooded area now. Turns so tight it’s getting harder and harder to get the car round them at these speeds. Even more so due to the roads being so wet from yet another typical winter downpour. On more than one occasion I’ve felt the back end try and get away from me. There’s no way these roads should be a sixty zone. Forty at most.
“Please can you slow down?” she asked again. I liked her tone this time. It was more respectful.
“I’m doing the speed limit,” I said. My own tone short in it’s delivery. The silence was unbearable but not as much as the thought of having to talk to her. Not yet. I’m not ready. It’ll only end in an argument and I’m not a good person to argue with. I can’t handle them. At least I’m man enough to admit it.
“Even so...” she said, “...Can you please slow down a little?”
I smirked at how uncomfortable I was making her feel. It’s nothing less than what she deserves. Nothing less. If anything this is tame to what she really deserves. I continued at the same speed as we turned into the next corner - a narrow right hander.
* * * * *
I opened my eyes. Face down on the steering wheel. My head is banging. What the fuck happened? I turned to the passenger’s side of the car. She’s just opening her eyes too. Blood on her face not that I can see where it’s coming from. She looks too shocked to give me a lecture. I undid my seatbelt and pushed the car door open. A couple more seconds to regain my composure and I climbed out to survey the damage.
Jesus Christ.
I can’t remember exactly what happened. Looking at the damage to the front of the car, wrapped around a tree, I think it’s safe to assume we came off the road.
A quick look up and down the road - I can’t see any headlights. No sign that anyone heard the crash and is on their way to investigate what happened or check that we’re okay.
Shit.
I turned back to the car. She isn’t getting out. She’s just sitting there - probably in shock. I’d ask her how she is but don’t want her getting the wrong idea. I don’t want her thinking I actually give a shit. I did, once. She only has herself to blame.
I need to call someone. Get some help to come and sort this mess out. Not sure who to call though. I’ve never been in an accident before. I reached into my pocket and pulled my mobile phone out. Thankfully it hasn’t been damaged in the collision. Lady Luck finally on my side?
No signal.
Lady luck laughing.
“Have you got any signal on your phone?” I called into the car.
She didn’t answer.
“Hollie...?”
Still no answer.
I leaned into the car, “Hollie?”
Slowly, she turned to me with a look of confusion on her face, “What happened?”
A pointless question given the fact she’s currently sat in a car wreck, “Your phone - do you have any signal?”
She didn’t answer, just turned back to the window. I reached over to the floor space, between her legs, and grabbed her handbag. I pulled it across to the driver’s seat and rooted around inside until I found her phone - also unharmed in the collision.
“Dammit,” I muttered when I saw the lack of signal strength on her phone too. I threw the phone back into her handbag and tossed it onto the backseat out of the way.
I slumped back down into the driver’s seat unsure what to do. We’ve driven miles and miles of country road tonight. There’s no way I’m walking back down the way we just came. I don’t remember passing anything other than a derelict looking house, in the middle of nowhere, and even that was a good number of miles away. As for going forward, if memory serves correctly, we still have a good number of miles to go before we hit a small village.
“Did you kill it?” Hollie asked - still staring out of the side window.
“What?”
“Is it dead?” she turned to me with tears in her eyes. “The deer,it was just stood there in the middle of the road. Did you kill it?”
Is that what happened? I had come round the corner and lost control of my car whilst swerving to avoid a deer? I stuck my head out of the car and looked down the road in the direction we had just driven. Can’t see any sign of an impact with anything other than the tree.
“Well?”
“It doesn’t look like we hit it,” I said.
“You sure?”
“Do you want to get out and take a look?” I snapped. She didn’t move. Didn’t even answer back. Just as well, really. This is her fault. All of it. Everything. If she hadn’t...No sense going into it now. No sense getting myself worked up even more. Not whilst I’m stuck here with her.
“Now what?” she asked.
I’m not sure.
From start to finish - this whole evening has been nothing but a mess.
II
“What are you doing?” asked Hollie.
After standing by the road for what seemed like hours, I realised no one was coming and had climbed onto the back seats where I was trying to get myself comfortable. Not that it was any of her business. At six foot two I have to say I don’t think I’ll be getting comfortable any time soon.
“Did you hear me?”
I turned my back to her and rested my head on my hands.
Still not comfortable.
“Brandon! Please don’t ignore me. Please,” she begged.
I loved hearing her beg.
It made a nice change - listening to her beg as opposed to having me do the begging. Ha! Me doing the begging! Those days are gone. For good.
“Please...”
She’ll never shut up if I don’t answer her, “I’m trying to get comfortable.”
“You’re going to sleep?”
“Not all the time you’re yakking to me.”
“I’m sorry.”
I tried to ignore her apology. She had a way of talking...A certain tone...A tone where I’d be the one who ended up feeling guilty and then apologising - even if I hadn’t done anything wrong in the first place.
“Shouldn’t we try and find some help?” she asked.
“It’s the middle of the night, there’s no one out there and I doubt anyone will be passing us by anytime soon.”
“We could walk...”
“I don’t want to leave the car and...besides
...we’re miles away from anywhere.”
That and the fact I didn’t feel very good. Probably the shock of the crash, lack of food, and emotions from earlier in the evening. I expect I’ll feel better after a nap.
She continued, “Is there room for two?”
“No.”
“There was a time when you’d have offered me the back seat,” she said under her breath.
I didn’t answer her.
No doubt she was trying to provoke a reaction from me.
A reaction I won’t give.
I closed my eyes and did my best to pretend I was somewhere else; somewhere where I felt happier. Happier with myself and Hollie. Every memory I turned to though was tainted. Before tonight I could have looked back to when we were better and seen nothing but laughter, fun and love. Now, when I look back...I see the laughter, fun and love from me but...from her, I see nothing but a lost little girl looking for something better. I wonder, are those doubts in my mind now because I know what I know or...were they always there? Was she ever happy with me?