The Undead Day Fifteen

by RR Haywood

  Paula speaks out next with a tone like a school teacher, which at first makes me worried they’ll both react adversely to, assuming they both hate authority. To my shame my stereotype is proven wrong as Jagger immediately softens to show a respectful countenance.

  ‘Jagger, this is important. We’re running blind here so if you know how to read this then say something.’

  ‘He got a youth trainin’ thing last time he got nicked,’ Mo Mo pipes up, ‘sent him on a ship or summit.’

  ‘Jagger?’ I prompt him.

  ‘Yeah, did couple weeks on this sailing ship…like an old one but they had one of those,’ he nods at the device, ‘the instructor said they had to have it for insurance…they had loads of stuff like that.’

  ‘Did they teach you how to read it?’ I ask the question, suppressing the sense of urgency as I can see he’s shifting uncomfortably on the spot.

  ‘Nah, not like proper…know what I mean? Like…but the bloke showed me and…’ He trails off to fall silent, his normal bravado and confidence vanishing in a second. He looks like the young lad he really is, looking up and about at everyone with quick furtive glance as though he’s ashamed or embarrassed. ‘The er…’ he motions his head towards the screen, ‘it’s got like GPS and er…but the maps are already loaded so…like it knows where we are from the satellites, but…’ he moves forward to take the screen from Roy, ‘er…this is the depth like, you know…how deep the water is…but like, we ain’t on the water so…yeah that’s right, the number is really low and that’s why it’s red…like it’s telling us we’re in shallow water, you get me?’

  ‘Keep going,’ I urge him gently.

  ‘Like then it sends the radar wave things out so….all these are things the waves are reading…er like bats, you get me?’

  ‘Sonar,’ Roy mentions.

  ‘Who’s that then?’ Jagger looks up at him.

  ‘Oh, er…forget it,’ Roy keeps a straight face.

  ‘So like, yeah er…did you fix it proper like…with the front at the front…?’

  ‘We did,’ Roy nods.

  ‘Cos like the bloke said he sees loads of wankers fixin ‘em on wrong and they read the screen the wrong direction and end up smashing into other boats and shit.’

  ‘We fixed it correctly,’ Roy re-asserts, ‘the instructions were quite clear.’

  ‘Then er…this is what the waves are reading from the front of the boat…fuck it…the er…car thing, like…this line here, that is the water edge cos like, the colour is lighter and the numbers are all flat so like sea level…and then on this side,’ he waves his left hand, ‘there’s something there,’ he points at a darker section, ‘somethin’ solid innit, like er…he said like dense or summit, yeah dense,’ he nods quickly, getting more confident, ‘and like, on this side,’ he waves his other hand, ‘there ain’t nuffin’ cos like…the numbers is all low and the colour is all the same….’

  ‘Mate,’ I say with a downturned mouth and an impressed tone, ‘that is brilliant, well done…’

  ‘Good work,’ Clarence pats him on the back.

  ‘Well done,’ Roy nods stiffly.

  ‘You did brilliantly,’ Paula squeezes his shoulder, ‘you think you can read it if we’re moving?’

  ‘Yeah,’ he stares down at the screen with a bit of colour blushing in his cheeks, ‘like but go fuckin’ slowly though yeah.’

  ‘We will mate, we’ll give it a go, think you can find the road out?’

  ‘Er…the range is set low…’ he turns the thing round trying to find buttons.

  ‘Touch screen,’ Nick says.

  ‘Ah yeah, got it….er…settings…so that’s like the brightness and….right yeah, range, shit this is like the lowest setting so…fuckin how do you make it more?’

  ‘That one?’ Nick reaches over.

  ‘You reckon?’

  ‘Looks like it,’ Nick keys the screen, ‘yeah see…’

  ‘Fuckin’ nice,’ Jagger smiles up at the older lad, ‘cheers mate, so like…how far do you want it?’

  ‘How far do they go?’ I ask.

  ‘Dunno, fuckin’ miles and shit, you get me…like on the ocean they gotta go far ain’t they?’

  ‘We need to keep it close…’ I stare down at the screen, ‘five hundred metres? Something like that?’

  ‘Five hundred…’ Jagger mouths.

  ‘It’s on nautical miles isn’t it,’ Nick says, ‘gotta change the measurements thing.’

  Paula guides Roy back, giving the two lads room to figure it out. Murmuring between them they jab at the screen, chuckle, swear a lot and finally get it how they want it, changing the colour spectrum at the same time and marvelling at all the different things it can do.

  ‘Ready?’ I ask, breaking into their intense focus.

  ‘Yeah,’ Nick murmurs in a faraway voice, ‘shit, yeah sorry, Mr Howie, yeah…we’re ready.’

  ‘All aboard then,’ I beam round and grin at the groans and shaking heads as we get loaded up again.

  Clarence takes the front with me, Nick and Jagger perch on the seats closest to the front, the two of them staring at the screen and talking quietly.

  ‘Stay slow, Mr Howie,’ Nick calls out, ‘so we can get used to it.’

  ‘Fuck that,’ I gun the engine but keep the vehicle in neutral, ‘we’re going flat out.’

  ‘He’s joking,’ Cookey reassures a suddenly very worried looking Jagger.

  ‘Right then lads, give me some directions.’

  ‘Drive around for a bit so we get the idea of what we’re looking at,’ Nick says.

  I stare out at the thick fog and glance over at Clarence who motions with a tilt of his head, avoiding any responsibility in the decision making. I roll my eyes and start moving forward going no faster than walking pace. Talk about weird, it’s bloody horrible. I can’t see a thing, nothing. Because of the size of the front of the Saxon I can’t even see the ground in front of the vehicle, just a solid white mass.

  ‘Er,’ Clarence grips the sides of his chair hard, ‘is this a good idea? The water’s edge could be…’

  ‘Nah it’s not,’ Jagger cuts in, ‘it’s off to the side…nothing in front of us.’

  ‘You sure?’ I call out.

  ‘Not really,’ Nick admits, ‘but just keep going.’

  ‘We’re gonna end up on fire,’ Cookey comments.

  ‘Fire?’ Paula asks.

  ‘Nick manages to set everything on fire…especially when we’re near water.’

  ‘That was one ferry,’ Nick comments drily, ‘one fucking ferry…at least I didn’t blow up the refinery.’

  ‘Who did?’ Roy asks.

  Silence.

  ‘I did,’ Dave admits after a lengthy pause.

  ‘Fuck! There…’ Jagger yells out in such a tone that my foot hits the brake from natural reflex.

  ‘What?’ I shout back in panic as both Clarence and I try to peel our faces from the windscreen.

  ‘The road, gotta be it,’ Jagger says, ‘see that….you get me?’

  ‘Yeah,’ Nick replies, ‘go left a bit.’

  ‘Left…right, got it.’

  ‘No left, not right,’ Nick corrects me.

  ‘Left, that’s what I said.’

  ‘You said right,’ Lani interrupts.

  ‘I meant right, as in correct…er…answering in the affirmative.’

  ‘Right ahead now,’ Nick shouts.

  ‘No need to shout Nick,’ Paula points out, ‘it’s very quiet in here.’

  ‘Sorry.’

  ‘Was that right and ahead or go right ahead as in drive straight?’ I ask.

  ‘Oh…er…drive straight,’ Nick says…’keep going…left a bit…bit more…yeah that’s got to be the road,’ he says to Jagger.

  ‘Probably,’ Jagger replies.

  ‘Probably? Bloody probably?’ I exclaim, ‘how about yeah definitely that’s the road? How about that?’

  ‘We’re on it,’ Nick points out, ‘so…we didn’t fall off anything…�
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  Nodding with respect I give him a thumbs up over my shoulder and decide to just drive instead of making comments.

  ‘What’s that?’ Jagger asks.

  ‘Er…trees?’ Nick replies, ‘I think I saw trees when I drove down here, boss, the road curves slightly to the right in a second…keep going…’

  Clarence cuts in, ‘get closer to my side, I might get a view of the kerb.’ I edge over to the side of the road with tiny adjustments in the steering while his big hand waves me to me to keep going. ‘Got it,’ he announces, ‘I can see the kerb.’

  ‘Brilliant, I can’t.’

  ‘Start turning into the bend to the right, Mr Howie,’ Nick advises. We hit the kerb with a dull jolt, I correct and drift too far the other way which sets Clarence off moaning that he can’t see anything.

  ‘Maybe I should get a view of the kerb?’ I suggest to which he concedes with a shrug, stretches his legs out and gets into a comfortable position.

  Edging to my side this time, I find the side of the road, almost cheering at the sight of something other than thick fog. My confidence grows as the two lads get used to reading the image on the screen, chatting non-stop in quiet tones as they try to work out the constantly changing view. Being able to see the kerb helps and I increase the speed in small increments, building up to a pace that would match a decent jog and then as we get out onto the main road I get up to a good running speed.

  ‘What’s that?’ Jagger asks, ‘the darker patch…see it? Fuck! It’s moving…what the fuck is it?’

  ‘Boss, slow down,’ Nick shouts, ‘got something moving towards us…er…coming from ahead of us and to the er….coming from the left.’

  Bringing the speed right down I peer out but see nothing.

  ‘Still coming,’ Nick shouts. Meredith takes over, giving a sudden growl she’s on her feet pushing to the front and trying to get to the windscreen. Her hackles on her neck standing on end, ears pricked and her lips pull up to show those magnificent teeth.

  I turn the engine off so that just the whir of the radar thing on top and the dog growling breaks the silence. Meredith switches to a raging bark as she hones in on whatever is out there, tracking the movement with her head.

  ‘It’s right there,’ Nick says, ‘it’s stopped…right in front of us…not moving.’

  I start the engine up again and creep forward, edging slowly into the fog but still we see nothing.

  ‘It’s moving away as we do,’ Nick relays, ‘staying right ahead of us.’

  ‘How big is it?’ Dave asks.

  ‘Just a dark splodge, see?’ Nick shows him the screen, ‘it’s got to be right there.’ Nick appears right behind me staring out the window.

  ‘You see it?’ Jagger asks.

  ‘Nothing mate,’ Nick replies.

  ‘Sod this,’ Clarence cracks his door open, ‘OI!’ He bellows, ‘who is that?’

  ‘Any reaction?’ I ask.

  ‘Er…no…still there…’ Jagger says.

  ‘The dog, boss,’ Blowers points out the obvious, ‘she’s going nuts…it’s got to be one of them.’

  ‘Let her out,’ Cookey says, ‘soon find out.’

  ‘Fuck it, yeah go on then. Open the back doors,’ I call back and twist round to see Roy working the locking mechanism. Meredith snaps her head at the noise of the doors being opened and charges down the vehicle, leaping from the back before turning on the spot to charge down the side of the vehicle and out of view in the fog. A split second later and her almighty snarls rip through the air from a savage attack. I’m out of the vehicle, axe in hand and jogging slowly forward towards the noise until I find her on top of an undead male. Having ripped his throat out, she’s now working on his arm, biting through the shoulder joint before gripping the bicep to pull it free of the socket with a violent ragging of her head. It pops free with a sickening squelch and she runs round in circles pleased as punch while wagging her tail.

  ‘Shit, that’s one messed up dog,’ Clarence comments. Turning I see the rest are with us, all staring at the dog parading with her trophy.

  ‘Good girl!’ Nick is quick to praise her, dropping to his knees as she races back to show him her new toy, ‘you got another arm! Well done, good girl.’ He rubs her sides and back while she makes little whining noises of pleasure but keeps the arm gripped firmly in her mouth. ‘What’s this?’ He asks in a friendly tone and tries to grip the wrist, but she’s having none of it and instantly growls deep.

  ‘Does she always do that?’ Mo Mo asks in a slightly horrified voice.

  ‘Oh shit, she’s taking it back with her,’ Cookey says, ‘Meredith, come here…good girl, come on…let me have it…’ She responds to his tone, turning to run back with her tail wagging like crazy and seemingly happy as anything until he touches the arm at which point she makes it clear nobody is taking the arm from her mouth.

  Two minutes later and we’re back in the Saxon. Everyone back in their seats with a massive German Shepherd sitting proud as punch in the middle with a human arm dangling from her mouth, the claw like hand resting on Mo Mo’s leg as he stares down at it in dismay, refusing to try and move it.

  Dave reaches over and slides it from his leg. Meredith turns with a growl to stare at Dave. Dave stares back. The dog stops growling. Dave stares longer and the dog releases her trophy with a sudden look of submission, allowing Dave to pick it up and stack it neatly to the side.

  ‘You leaving it there?’ I ask him the question hanging in the air.

  ‘It’s hers,’ he replies.

  No point in arguing, no point at all.

  ‘Where did he come from?’ Clarence asks once we’re back up and moving.

  ‘Maybe,’ Blowers calls out, ‘he’s was the one…the he’s coming one.’

  ‘He fucked it up if he is,’ Cookey laughs, ‘big effort there.’

  Four bloody times. I can’t help but think back to what Lani told me and compare myself to Roy and feel a stab of inadequacy. What the hell? Why couldn’t I just stay awake for a little bit longer? Even once would have been nice, but four times?

  Can Dave read these thoughts? I twist round to see him looking over at me but not knowing if he glanced up because he saw me turning or was already watching me. Dave? Can you hear me? Scratch your nose if you can.

  What the hell am I doing? Losing the plot by the sounds of it. It’s this fog. With nothing else to see, it sort of dumbs the mind. Glancing across, I can see Clarence is almost asleep now, his eyes closing heavily. The voices in the back are low and muted, Nick and Jagger still trying to read the screen and offer directions.

  ‘Itchy nose, Dave?’

  ‘A bit.’

  I spin round to see his hand dropping away from his face. ‘Did you just scratch your nose?’ I demand overly loud.

  ‘Yes,’ his reply is typical Dave, a straight answer to a straight question.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘It was itching?’

  ‘You alright, Mr Howie?’ Lani asks with a strange look on her face.

  No. No I’m not bloody alright. Dave can read my mind. Except I can’t really say that and appear sane at the same time, so I shrug and turn back to stare at the nothingness out the window instead.

  Hmmm, thinking about it. If Dave can read my mind then is that such a bad thing? Does it even matter? Maybe it’s the infection giving me some weird telepathic power. Nah, that’s fucking freaky thinking. Is Dave even immune? I doubt we’ll ever find out because if Dave ever gets turned we’ll either all die very quickly or we’ll already be dead from the fact that he’s the last one standing.

  Shit, it’s not worth even thinking about. Imagine someone like Dave being turned? Someone with that level of skill and ability? Thank god there’s only one of him.

  Twelve

  Gregori walks with the boy clasped tight. The constant motion of step, step, step. The darkness and the warmth from his body both soon work to let the boy drift into a jarring sleep. His mind is too young to process what just happened
. It’s dark. This is a nightmare. Mummies don’t die or bleed like that. Step. Step. Step. He can feel the warm, hard body carrying him. So unlike his mother yet a warm body just the same and one that holds him without any moaning that he’s getting too heavy to be carried.

  Step. Step. Step.

  Gregori carries the boy not knowing why or where to. It was a gut instinct, a reaction based on the circumstances, or rather, the lack of orders and lack of direction. There was a situation and he reacted to it. Thing is, he reacted the opposite to everything he had ever been taught or told. Walk away, do not get involved.

  But this was global, of that there is no doubt. This is everywhere. The world. The whole world is being ripped apart by a virus that turns people into frenzied beings that do not feel pain and feel the urge to pass on whatever infection is within them. That much is obvious.

  What now? He has the boy in his arms and no idea of direction or even where he should go. Should he leave the boy somewhere? Let him fend for himself?

  No. He took the boy so that makes it his responsibility to find him somewhere safe. Yes, a safe place. The boy needs a safe place. So that means finding other survivors and giving the boy to them.

  A feeling of calm settles inside him, pushing away those first time feelings of being unsure of what to do. He is Gregori, the ugly man. He always knows what to do.

  Find other survivors. Hand the boy over. Head home.

  Infrequently, the undead impede their movement and are only slaughtered when they pose a direct threat, and even then Gregori does so as smoothly and quietly as possible so not to disturb the sleeping child in case he starts sobbing again.

  Using only his right hand he times the incoming attacks to perfection, using their momentum against them. Small side steps are the most he takes, just enough to let the thing stagger past with a cut throat, and always to the right too so the spraying blood doesn't touch the boy.

  They head out of town, away from the epicentre of the disaster, away from the dense population zones. He sticks to quiet back streets and alleys, places he is familiar and comfortable with and so enclosed that nothing can attack from the sides. Letting his own instinct guide him, he walks until he is sure they should be away from the population density, but still there are houses and still there are people running out into the hot, dark night to face the ravenous beasts that were once their neighbours and townsfolk. Windows smashing, hordes of the beasts gathering in ever increasing groups as they seek the next prey. The numbers grow so large that they sweep down the streets with an awful noise of growling and hissing. Wherever there is the hint of prey they are there, charging and staggering with teeth showing.