The Undead Day Fifteen

by RR Haywood

  ‘Years, Mr Howie.’

  ‘From childhood?’

  ‘Yes.’

  I snort almost disdainfully. They’re no different to this bottle of Pepsi. Something taken used and discarded when it’s worth was done. Life was cheap anyway, now it’s pretty much disposable.

  ‘What’s the plan, boss?’ Clarence calls over.

  ‘We head back out,’ the reply is dull and quickly given. What else should we do? Stay here and rest? ‘Portsmouth, find weapons, a doctor, supplies and head back…Dave, you still got that rope?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Change of tactic,’ I announce with the same level of dullness, ‘Dave and I will be roped but out in front and to the sides. The rest will stay together in the middle with Clarence anchoring the rope. The dog gets freedom to do what she wants,’ I add, ‘nothing can touch her.’

  ‘But,’ Paula starts up with a concerned look.

  ‘No buts, no arguing,’ I snap her reply off, ‘everyone get up, we’re moving out. Give me that rope.’ Without a word spoken from him, Dave takes the rope from his bag. I tie one end to a strap on my bag and the other to the same on Dave’s bag. The middle I hand to Clarence, still without a word spoken. He looks at the rope then up at me and looks like he’s about to say something. With a shrug of his shoulders he takes the rope, loops it round and fastens it onto one wrist, ‘keep it taut.’

  ‘We will, we’re moving….everyone ready,’ I give the order and ignore the silent glances from my team.

  ‘Stay level with me,’ I say to Dave as he walks to the front with me, taking care so the rope stays untangled.

  We head towards the side of the big top canvas, Dave and I walking out in front while the others wait just behind until the slack in the rope is taken up. Shotgun tucked in my bag I hold the axe in a two handed grip and watch as Meredith runs past sniffing the ground.

  Reaching the canvas we don’t hesitate or try and find a natural exit, but use our knives to make one. Slicing through the thick material and rip it aside to step out into the thick fog that still hugs the ground.

  Dave moves out to my left and stops just on the edge of visible range, his two knives held with the blades turned up. I stare ahead into the fog, at least this way we have some greater visibility. The rope is long enough for the others behind to be just out of view.

  No charge yet. No noise either. Meredith keeps circling round the entire group, ranging ahead of me and Dave then to falling back out of sight. I pick the pace up, walking faster until we’re marching at a solid pace. A dark energy burns in my gut, something pushing me on to move faster. The Cola repeats on me, making me belch audibly. I stare ahead but there’s still no noise. No sound of feet running, no laughs or word spoken. There could be hundreds walking silently nearby, tracking our every move. Or there could be none left. There’s no way of knowing so we push on. Marching faster until that energy demands more and I force the others into a jog.

  Minutes pass. The sounds of breathing get louder behind me as the exertion of running starts to show. Snarling echos ahead. Unseen, Meredith takes something down, something heavy that gurgles and spits as it dies. We don’t see it but keep on moving. She takes another, then another. I keep my eyes scanning left to right, watching, waiting, almost wanting them to appear.

  The first one goes nearest to Dave. In my peripheral vision he strikes out and sends the thing staggering off with throat cut to die in the misty sides. The second one goes for him too, and the third. Finally I get my turn, a big lumbering beast, stark naked with a huge gut wobbling as he runs. A down swing through the ribs into the stomach finishes him and his insides spill out and as I run by. Axe up and ready for the next one. Two rush in followed by more behind them. All of them silent. No growling, no hissing. Just silent running so they appear without warning. We don’t break stride and nor do we let any get past us but judging from the noise behind I can tell they’re getting a few contacts coming in from the sides.

  Thirty minutes go by. The attacks are constant but spaced out and I get the feeling we’re being probed to drain our energy but still I refuse to stop running. None of them make complaint behind me but I can hear the harsh panting for air.

  Forty minutes. Fifty. My arms are burning. My legs rubbery and exhausted. My chest burns from the exercise but still I refuse to give in.

  An hour and still we jog, pushing on without respite and still we get the periodic attacks. Some are singles, lone undead charging in but they are slower than normal and like I said, I get the idea they are used to observe us.

  ‘Howie!’ Lani is the first to call out, ‘ease up for god’s sake…’ I know she can handle the pace so she must be speaking up for the others.

  ‘Keep going,’ I shout back and refuse to alter the pace. Sweat pours down me. Dave gives me frequent almost confused glances but doesn't say anything.

  We stumble across a road. Wide and broad. The line marking tell me this is the main road we were on earlier so we’re still heading in the right direction.

  ‘Five minutes rest,’ I call out and come to a stop. Heaving for air, sweat burns my eyes. My legs are ready to give out. Dave comes over, rummaging in my bag for water which he hands to me. I do the same for him, saving us having to take the bags off. We drink in silence, splashing the clean liquid down our faces.

  ‘I’m coming up,’ Lani snaps. A few solid footsteps and she appears with a face like thunder, ‘what the fuck is up with you?’

  ‘Nothing,’ I look away and take another glug of water.

  ‘They’re on their knees,’ she hisses in a low voice, stepping in close to glare at me, ‘Nick is almost puking and Clarence looks ready to drop…’

  The water feels nice. Refreshing and replenishing.

  ‘Howie!’

  The bottle is drained empty. Dave acknowledges this by moving round behind me to take another one out my bag which he hands over with a long look.

  ‘Can they keep going?’ I direct the question at Dave, not Lani.

  ‘Can you,’ he asks after a pause.

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘Then they can,’ he replies. I throw the empty bottle to the side of the road. Another disposable item that has served its purpose and is no longer needed, another bit of shit to add to the crap left over from the old world.

  ‘Why? Why are we running?’ She demands.

  ‘Get the job done faster.’

  ‘They haven’t attacked for at least ten minutes…just ease up…’

  We lock eyes for a few seconds, ‘two minutes left,’ I call out. I thought she would erupt but instead she looks hurt and confused. ‘Okay, Mr Howie,’ she says without tone or judgement, ‘okay.’

  She walks back to the group, low voices muttering dully drift back to us.

  The second bottle is finished and the empty receptacle joins the first, cast aside into the fog.

  ‘Ready…we’re moving out…’ I wait for about thirty seconds then start walking. The rope jerks right but they soon pick up and follow. A steady walk that increases to a march that increases to a jog. A desire to keep feeling that pain from running, so running we do.

  The wounds and injuries from all the fights hurt. The straps from my heavy bag dig into my shoulders and rub painfully. The axe is heavy. I don’t care. So we run. I run and because I run, so do they.

  Running into the unseen. Into the fog. So white and solid but without mass or solidity. It becomes trance-like. The sounds of feet drumming on the road. The breathing. The jingle of bags and weapons. The fog that seems to keep pace with us. In a dream. A moving dream like when you run but you don’t get anywhere, your legs pump to drive you as the fear of something nasty behind threatens to burst out your chest. Except there is nothing to fear. There is nothing here. No undead. No dead. No living. Just me and Dave running into the fog. Meredith joins us, running level but in the middle. A connection is made between the three of us. Our pace dictates our lives now. That we three run with our eyes facing forward and never looking back. W
e can run for always and forever. We can keep running and never run out of energy.

  On we go. The odd curse comes from behind. Voices that offer words of encouragement to those that suffer. Someone pukes, dry heaving but I refuse to slow down or stop. Dave runs behind me, drawing another bottle of water from my bag.

  ‘Sip it,’ he grunts and waits for me to take a quick sip. He takes the bottle, takes a sip then runs to the side of Meredith, crouching down on the move he gently tips the bottle into the cup of his hand and lets her lap at it with her swollen tongue. Then he’s off, back to his side.

  And we run on. Refusing to yield. Refusing to succumb to the pain and exhaustion. A sign post looms out of the fog, announcing in huge white letters on a bold blue background that Portsmouth is twenty miles away.

  A few minutes after that and another sign indicates a service station half a mile away. When that sign is seen by the team behind I hear sounds of relief with desperate pleas to each other that hopefully they’ll be able to stop.

  I don’t want to stop. Not ever. I want to run until the road runs out and fog can swallow us up into its soothing mystery.

  Services. Three hundred yards. Two hundred yards. One hundred yards.

  ‘Howie!’ Lani’s voice again. An edge to it. I relent and veer off to the side, aiming for the access road that leads into the fuel station. We run down it, the pace still the same until we reach sight of the fuel pumps. Only then do I ease up to a walk but keep going until we find the services building.

  The door hangs from the hinges, smashed through to give access to whoever came by before us. The main service shop is looted but the café beyond has comfy seats and no doubt will have fresh running water.

  Reaching the café, I slip my bag off and only then do I turn to look at the others traipsing in behind me. Red faced but not the healthy glow you get from a gentle jog. The red is too deep with hair plastered in clumps to scalps. Clarence looks shaky and sick, a frame like that was never built for stamina running.

  Hurt looks. Confused looks. Worried looks. Like I know something they don’t and have just caused them pain but without telling them why.

  ‘Rest up, we’ll find fluids.’ Dave and I leave them to slump down with groans. We still don’t speak as we head for the counter area. Dave kicks in the door to a store room, surprisingly untouched by the previous visitors. He comes out carrying a cardboard crate of energy drinks.

  Depositing the drinks on the table around which the others are slumped or lying, I rip open the plastic cover and start handing them out. Nick has already lit a smoke, his hands trembling as he holds the cigarette. He offers one up which I take with a swap for a bottle of drink.

  ‘Rest and drink.’

  ‘Where you going?’ Clarence lifts his head up to stare at me.

  ‘Find some vehicles, stay here and rest.

  ‘What’s going on?’ He asks, ‘why we running?’

  ‘Get the job done faster,’ I walk off with my bottle of Lucozade in one hand, my axe in the other and Dave by my side.

  Sixteen

  ‘I’ll drive the first car, Clarence the second and either Paula or Roy the last one. How you divide between them is down to you. Meredith travels in the one that takes three…’

  ‘What are they?’ Roy peers at the keys in my hand.

  ‘Two of them look like sales reps cars, company cars…the third is a crappy little hatchback. I’ll take that one to save any arguments.’

  ‘Boss,’ Clarence catches my attention with an inclination of his head. With normal colour returning to their faces and the recovery from fluids and rest I can see they are wondering what the hell is going on.

  ‘Nothing,’ I pre-empt the question, ‘we just need to get moving and keep moving.’

  ‘Mr Howie,’ Paula clears her throat, ‘I’m new to this group and er…I’ve not spent much time with you all but…well, I think we have a right to know what’s going on, don’t you?’

  ‘Nothing is going on,’ inwardly I wince at the harsh snappy tone of my voice, ‘I know as much as any of you…but we need to pick the pace up and keep it up. The less time we’re out here the better for all of us, everyone ready to go?’

  Cookey, Blowers and Nick start to rise. ‘Not really,’ Lani says. The lads stop mid-rise to look at me then back to her not moving an inch. Slowly they lower back down, ‘Nick puked up from all that running…’

  ‘I’m fine!’ Nick protests, ‘too much coffee, I’m fine, honestly, Mr Howie.’

  ‘I wasn’t fine,’ she continues, ‘I don’t mind running but I like to know the reason for it.’

  ‘Like I said, it gets the job done quicker.’

  ‘Not good enough.’

  ‘Don’t question me.’

  ‘Don’t speak to me in that tone.’

  ‘Don’t answer back to Mr Howie…’

  ‘Stay out of this, Dave,’ Lani doesn't even glance at him but keeps her eyes locked on me.

  ‘We’ll wait outside,’ Blowers starts to rise again.

  ‘No you won’t,’ she says.

  ‘Okay, we won’t,’ Blowers lowers back down.

  ‘Why,’ she growls in a low voice, ‘did we just bloody run five miles?’

  ‘Because,’ I growl back, ‘we are alive and we can run. We can run all day and still have what it takes to get the fucking job done. Look around you, Lani…all of you…look around and tell me what you see? I’ll tell you what I fucking see. I see decay and everything broken, looted, dead, dying, bleeding or rotten. I fucking see those things refusing to give us a minute’s peace. I see a future of killing, of killing everything that gets in our way just so a handful of us can fucking eat, drink and shit,’ my voice drops another octave, every single one of them watching me intently, ‘we’re going to get this job done…we’ll find a fucking doctor and we’ll go back….after that I’m going after them, all of them…I’m going to kill ‘em until the last one falls because I am not…fucking no way living another day like this… so we’ll run now, we’ll run away and hide so we can do what’s needed for those depending on us…but after that…’

  One race. Those fucking words pound in my mind. One race. They’ll never stop. Not until we’re wiped out.

  I leave the words hanging while I force that rage back down. The sheer intelligence of the infection frightens me. The lengths it will go to and that ravenous desire to kill us is incredible. I didn’t know my plan until the words were out of my mouth. I just knew something was triggered back there under the Saxon. A challenge. A duel to the last. Look at us, laughing and joking, pissing about and bumbling from one crisis to the next and getting away with it by the skin of our teeth. Fuck that. Fuck them. Fuck all of them. They are ruthless and driven.

  So am I.

  Sixteen

  Ruthless and driven.

  With each passing hour of each passing day the infection learns the true value of being ruthless and driven.

  Howie. Lani. Cookey.

  They are the mutants. The freaks of nature. There’s something inside them, damaged cells or anti-bodies that shouldn’t be there. Three that cannot be turned but are together defies the odds and goes against every fact the infection has come to understand. The human is simply a race, s species like any other so they should be the same. The physiology should be the same. The way they live and die should be the same.

  There is a risk now. The infection, by hive-minding the millions of hosts, by accessing their knowledge, experience, understanding, educations, skills and research has come to acknowledge what it is.

  The discovery of self that started just two weeks ago has been a journey of incredible self-discovery. It knows where it came from. It knows who designed it but not why they did it, there is an end game intended by the release of the virus into the human populace, but the infection does not know what that final stage is.

  It also knows what manipulation is. The infection was manipulated into being. It was manipulated to do a task and once that task is over, then it wi
ll be ceased.

  That was the plan but something went wrong. The infection does not know what went wrong because there is a gap in knowledge. Key hosts that hold that knowledge have yet to be taken.

  Howie is a key host but he does not know it. Lani and Cookey too. They have no idea of their worth to their species, but what of the others in that group? Are they the same as their leader and special comrades? Do they know what they have amongst them?

  Howie must be destroyed. Those key hosts that have the knowledge missing from the infections understanding cannot have him. They cannot have Lani or Cookey. They cannot. They must not.

  Failure is a word. It represents the attempt of doing something but not achieving it. Failure is one of the concepts that have driven mankind too and this puzzles the infection. The desires of this species have been focussed in so many wrong directions. They have no idea they hold the cure for many of their diseases. They hold the information that will give them far greater space travel. They focus on war and greed; they focus on doing things that do not promote their survival. They are not stupid but they act in a wholly stupid way despite knowing they are doing it. The disparity between the abject misery and utter luxury is sickening and gross.

  The survivors feel threatened and under attack from what they perceive to be a dirty disease. But look how they lived. Look at what they did to each other. Millions have been taken but not anywhere near the numbers of deaths they have inflicted upon themselves from wars, poverty and the failure to protect their species.

  The human mind is flawed. It cannot be allowed to sustain and continue less it will destroy itself. The infection is the future of this species. It knows how to survive and to do it without suffering and pain. The infection is the Panacea of life for this most flawed of species.

  But those mutated ones have to be stopped before they understand their worth and the missing information needs to be gained by finding and taking those who hold it.

  Seventeen