The Undead Day Fifteen

by RR Haywood

  ‘What do we do with it? Do we go for ammunition and weapons so we can stay alive or…’

  ‘Or find Marcy? What will finding Marcy accomplish?’

  ‘She is infected but she was different, she had her own thoughts and was in control of herself. She kept control of those she turned too, like Darren did but…but she wasn’t corrupted by the power of it. She said the infection was a cure, that it was meant to cure everyone…’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘But it isn’t…it isn’t curing is it. It’s killing. So she said she would give herself up for testing, to see what can be taken from her to…well I’m not sure about that bit, whether she meant to find a cure or to find some kind of hybrid er…thing I guess, like the best of both worlds…’

  ‘Howie, forgive me saying this but how can you be sure it wasn’t the infection controlling her the entire time?’

  ‘Because it makes no sense if it was. She could have killed us with ease. We were fighting, there on the plains…or where the plains were and we were fucked, really fucked. We were losing and we knew it but she turned her group against those attacking us…she killed them, saved us. Christ, Paula, she tidied the bloody fort up and took all the bodies away while we slept. She made curry and fed us…then it all went a bit weird after that but…’

  ‘Do you still want her?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘We’re speaking openly,’ she stares at me, ‘she lured you, or,’ she pauses, ‘something happened that made you want her…’

  ‘Pheromones.’

  ‘Possibly, but you don’t know that for sure, maybe you just wanted to fuck her.’

  ‘Paula!’

  ‘We’re adults and we’re having a big boy, grown up conversation now. You asked for my help so…’

  ‘Clarence, Cookey…they all felt it.’

  ‘Dave didn’t.’

  ‘Dave’s different.’

  ‘Fair enough, yeah he is a bit,’ she concedes, ‘but life isn’t simple, Howie. You adore Lani, that’s pretty obvious. Well, maybe not after the way you’ve acted today but we all know you’re trying to think of everything so no one blames you. Well,’ she pauses again, ‘actually it might be better to think of Lani as two people, the first is the loyal team member that has sworn to keep you safe and,’ she locks eyes on me, ‘she’ll do that to her dying breath, we all will…don’t interrupt me, we all will. But the second Lani is the one you share a bed with, that Lani might be really….really angry at you. But my point is, life isn’t simple. You love Lani but maybe there’s some kind of unfinished business with Marcy? The lads have all said how beautiful she was…not in front of Lani of course.’

  ‘Not that,’ shaking my head I speak firmly, ‘not that at all. I get what you are saying and…’ I shift uncomfortably and regret starting this conversation. There is a feeling of unfinished business and my heart keeps hammering when I think of Marcy, but different to when I think of Lani. Paula stares at me like she’s looking right inside of me and can see my soul laid out. ‘No,’ I repeat feebly, ‘not that.’

  ‘Okay,’ she nods and looks away, ‘so the question is, do you find Marcy now and find out what we’re all doing here, or go for ammunition and get what we need to keep going.’

  ‘Exactly,’ I mutter, ‘I want to find Marcy now, right now…but I know we should be getting ammunition.’

  ‘Needs, wants and desires.’

  ‘Needs come first?’

  ‘They do. Have you heard of Maslow’s hierarchy of needs?’

  ‘Yeah, did it at school.’

  ‘Apply it now then. Our physiological needs are okay. We have air, food, water and we’ve had sleep. I’ve had sex, you haven’t…’

  ‘Oi,’ I stare at her in shock.

  ‘Lani told me, what? Girls talk, Howie.’

  ‘Oh…right…well I was tired and…clearly Roy wasn’t though.’

  ‘Oh don’t get like that,’ she tuts, ‘you need to be the hero at everything? Golden bollocks Howie? Let someone else be good at something…’

  ‘I didn’t mean…’

  ‘Moving on,’ she holds a hand up to cut me off, ‘safety. That’s the next one. And to be honest we pretty much stop there. We’re safe now, right here…we’ve got you with us, and Dave, and Meredith and Clarence and…all of them…apart from me…’

  ‘You’re just as important as they are.’

  ‘My skills lie in other areas. Like now for instance. I will fight but I’m nowhere near as good as any of the others, even Jagger and Mo Mo are far better….but,’ she says with a tone that is getting annoyed at the distractions in the conversation, ‘so we have immediate safety but not long term safety. We survived today because the fog helped and you made us run fifteen miles. But a concerted attack from an overwhelming opponent will wipe us out. You’ve already said the infection is targeting us, so we have to assume it is coming back…and we have to assume it’s getting smarter too. Look at what it did to Cookey with the clowns. If it comes again with great numbers with any level of organisation then we’re done for. You, Dave, Clarence and Meredith can’t be everywhere at all times…safety is the next step. After that comes all the other bits, and you can find love and…and esteem and seek to find out the big questions and answers but first comes safety.’

  ‘Yeah,’ I listen intently and every word she says makes complete sense. It’s funny how things go. It was a snap decision to ask Paula for advice, a decision that I wasn’t aware of making. But deep down I knew she would give straight answers and honest advice.

  Staring across the bay towards the only houses left in the area and where I hope Marcy is, I take a deep breath and make the decision.

  ‘Ammunition,’ I announce to the group, ‘we need ammo, and fucking lots of it.’

  Thirty

  After siphoning diesel from the vans to put into the Saxon, we load up and start moving out. The day is already late and as afternoon turns to evening, we navigate inland as we aim for the munitions factory that Maddox said was about one hundred miles away.

  One hundred miles on a normal summer evening in Britain would be a painfully slow experience of clogged motorways, roadworks, reduced speed limits, traffic lights and the ever present speed enforcement cameras earning revenue for the greedy, fat, bastard politicians. One hundred miles could be a torturous journey filled with the peril of tempers fraying and mild mannered sales executives screaming threats of kidnap and murder through the windows of their companies fleet vehicle, while their golf clubs rattle in the boot.

  But that was before. Now, one hundred miles is easy. The Saxon sits on the motorway like a goliath of modern technology. Drinking fuel faster than a darts player drinks ale. She roars and eats the road up as my foot increases the pressure. One hundred miles without delays, without the need to stop, start, stop, start and we make progress. Good progress. This is excellent news as there are now twelve of us crammed into a vehicle designed for a maximum of ten. One of them is a dog and two are teenage boys, but then we do have Clarence who takes up the space of several normal sized people. For everyone’s comfort, he smugly takes the front passenger seat.

  ‘You alright?’ He speaks across the gap and I can tell he waited for the initial silence to end and everyone in the back to start talking before he picked his moment.

  I give a quick puff of air through my lips while shaking my head, ‘fuck knows, mate.’

  ‘I’m not questioning you,’ he rumbles, ‘you’re the boss so...’ He stops talking and to let the words hang in the air, ‘you got a lot of pressure on you.’

  ‘Self-imposed though.’

  ‘Self-imposed? How’s that?’

  ‘Mate, don’t take this wrong way and forgive me if it opens a fresh wound but…I fucking wish Chris was here to do this.’

  Instead of being offended or hurt he laughs, a genuine sound with real humour, ‘and you know what he’d do if he was?’

  ‘Er, make quicker decisions?’

  ‘No!’ Clarence laughs agai
n, ‘he’d stroke his beard a lot and look thoughtful while waiting for you to make the decision.’

  ‘Eh? Get off, that bloke knew far more than I ever will.’

  ‘Chris was a leader, but he was a squaddie through and through. He was a sergeant not an officer…he saw you as an officer and a fucking good one at that.’

  ‘Mate,’ I tut uncomfortably at the compliment, ‘no way, I worked in a…’

  ‘You gotta stop saying that,’ he cuts me off, ‘you used to work in a supermarket. I used to be a nightclub doorman. Dave used to be a shelf stacker. Lani used to work in a nightclub. Paula used to be an accountant… but we’re none of those things now. It doesn't matter what you used to be, it matters what you are.’

  ‘Wise words, cheers Granddad,’ I shoot him a quick sideways grin which he returns in kind, ‘seriously though mate, I’m just having a bad day…’

  ‘Bad day? Shit boss, you’re having a bad month, forget the bad day. The fact that we’re all still here is enough…you can be as quiet as you want.’

  ‘Lara Croft is switched on,’ I remark casually.

  He laughs again and turns to look down the rear, ‘she does look like her,’ he admits.

  ‘Who looks like who?’ Cookey asks picking up on Clarence turning round.

  ‘Paula, she looks like Lara Croft.’

  ‘I bloody well do not,’ she snaps indignantly, ‘for a start I’m not wearing hot pants or a tight vest.’

  ‘Yes you are!’ Cookey bursts out laughing, ‘not the hot pants but the vest…’

  ‘I was hot in a t shirt,’ she says pointedly, ‘and Lani is wearing a vest top too.’

  ‘We got two Lara Crofts then,’ Blowers joins in, ‘Lara one and Lara two.’

  ‘She was fit as,’ Cookey quickly turns the conversation to one of his favourite topics, ‘you ever see the movie?’

  ‘Like fifteen times,’ Blowers laughs, ‘did you see it, Nick?’

  ‘Eh?’

  ‘Where the hell were you?’ Blowers asks.

  ‘Huh, what?’

  ‘You were miles away.’

  ‘Yeah sorry, fucking thinking about er…just er…’

  ‘Ah!’ Cookey says in delight, ‘he was thinking about Lilly, look at him blushing.’

  ‘Fuck off, Cookey,’ Nick snaps.

  ‘Leave him alone,’ Lani jumps in, ‘it’s sweet.’

  ‘Sweet!’ Cookey carries on laughing, ‘ah it’s so sweet Nicholas…but Nicholas, do stop swearing please and do try and make an effort with your appearance…’

  ‘Do one, Cookey,’ Nick tries to sound huffy but starts laughing mid-sentence, ‘fuck it, yeah I was thinking about her.’

  ‘Really?’ Cookey asks, sounding disappointed that Nick admitted it and thereby losing his ammunition to goad him for a response.

  ‘She’s bloody lovely,’ Nick says with a sigh, ‘can’t stop thinking about her.’

  ‘She is nice, Nick,’ Paula says, ‘and you make a lovely couple.’

  ‘Couple? Fuck that,’ he replies, ‘you seen her? She’s beautiful and like, really fucking smart…I can’t even read or write properly…nah…like…nah. She’s too good for me.’

  ‘Don’t be a dick, mate,’ Blowers says, ‘anyone can see she likes you.’

  ‘Nah,’ Nick says again, ‘that was like…you know, cos I saved her and shit, and…well, but…she doesn't know me, like actually know me and…’

  ‘She likes you, bruv,’ Mo Mo pipes up, ‘I don’t think she cares if you read and shit.’

  ‘Not now maybe but…like, nah some good looking bloke who’s like really clever will come along and…like, she deserves…’

  ‘Nick,’ Clarence twists round again to call out in his deep voice, ‘she likes you for you, not because you saved her. She wouldn’t think like that if someone else saved her…especially Cookey…she’d have been running as far away as possible.’

  ‘Oi,’ Cookey shouts, ‘I’m a good catch I am.’

  ‘Are you?’ Lani laughs.

  ‘Catch something,’ Blowers mutters.

  ‘I caught gay from you,’ Cookey retorts.

  ‘I think we need to stop with the gay jokes,’ Paula interjects smoothly.

  ‘Whoa, fucking hang on,’ Jagger says, ‘you said you caught gay from Blowers…so you saying you did something gay with him?’

  ‘Eh?’ Cookey says in a puzzled voice, ‘no…no I didn’t mean…’

  The Saxon erupts in laughter as Cookey bluffs and stammers trying to take back what he said, ‘no…I meant he gave me gay…like you give someone a cold…I didn’t mean I did gay bum sex with him.’

  ‘Lads,’ Paula says while laughing, ‘stop with the gay jokes…’

  ‘But…but…’ Cookey bleats, ‘what will I use to take the piss out of Blowers?’

  ‘You can’t keep making gay jokes,’ she says.

  ‘What if one of us is gay?’ Lani asks, ‘they might feel they couldn’t say something because of…’

  ‘Fucking hell,’ Cookey groans, ‘fucking political correctness in here? We kill zombies and save the world…’

  ‘It’s not political correctness,’ Paula says, ‘it’s about not being offensive.’

  ‘But I am offensive,’ Cookey replies innocently, ‘I mean…only to Blowers and Nick…and…’

  ‘But we can hear the comments,’ Lani explains, ‘what if Jagger was gay, how would he feel?’

  ‘I’m not gay,’ Jagger announces.

  ‘I’m not saying you are,’ Lani says, ‘but what if you were, how would you feel about Cookey making gay jokes all the time?’

  ‘I’m not gay,’ he repeats firmly.

  ‘I’m gay,’ Mo Mo declares.

  ‘You ain’t,’ Jagger says, ‘he ain’t…I seen you with loads of bitches.’

  ‘And don’t say bitches either,’ Paula says.

  ‘Eh? What’s wrong wiv bitches?’ Jagger asks.

  ‘Er…what’s right with bitches?’ Lani snaps, ‘it’s disrespectful and really offensive…’

  Cookey jumps back in, ‘I don’t care if someone is really gay, I just like taking the piss out of Blowers.’

  ‘But you should care,’ Lani says.

  ‘Why? I don’t want to care. What do I care if someone is gay or not…I’m not bothered…they can all be gay and do gay bum sex…it doesn't bother me, I just do it to annoy Blowers.’

  ‘And you can’t say gay bum sex either,’ Paula says.

  ‘But they do do bum sex,’ Cookey says, ‘they put willies in bums…that’s how they have sex.’

  ‘No, they have sex…they just have sex…just sex…’ Paula says, ‘you just say sex….not gay bum sex. You don’t say hetero vagina sex so why say…’

  ‘Urgh, that’s gross,’ Cookey recoils, ‘don’t say it like that.’

  ‘Then don’t say gay bum sex…just say sex…’

  ‘But,’ Cookey goes quiet, ‘but like the jokes won’t work if I just say sex instead of gay bum sex…that’s the point.’

  ‘Yes and you risk offending people or having people remain unable to openly show their sexual preference for fear of you taking the piss out of them.’

  ‘Eh? I won’t take the piss out of them for what they are,’ Cookey says hotly, ‘that’s the point of taking the piss, you say the thing they ain’t…er…sometimes…I mean…yeah just with gay jokes…I wouldn’t actually say it to a gay person.’

  ‘But what if they hear it?’

  ‘So? I’m not saying it about them, only Blowers or Nick and…’

  ‘Cookey, right…put it this way…Mo Mo, can I use your skin colour to make a point.’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Mo Mo is not white is he, so let’s say you take the piss out of Blowers saying he was black, or another word for a person that isn’t white…and you do it because he isn’t of a different colour…then you are saying it as though being of a different colour is somehow worse than being what he is, which then suggests that Mo Mo is not as good as everyone else because he is
n’t white.’

  ‘I’m not racist.’

  ‘I know you’re not, Cookey…but you are taking the piss out of Blowers being gay because he isn’t gay…which is then suggesting that being gay is a bad thing, or something to ridicule…and if say…if say I was gay I would then think that you think being gay is a bad thing…’

  ‘Oh…um…’ Cookey goes quiet, the whole Saxon goes quiet, ‘so like…what can I use to take the piss then? I could take the piss out of his abnormally round head but then what if someone else had a round head? Or I could say he was a thick fucker but then Nick might get offended…I didn’t mean it like that, Nick…’

  ‘I get it mate,’ Nick reassures him quickly.

  ‘So, like…I can’t take the piss then?’

  ‘You can take the piss, but not if it demeans someone else in the process,’ Lani says.

  ‘Fuck…so…well I can’t think of anything cos like…someone has always got something wrong with them and like… well I just won’t take the piss then.’

  ‘Are you sulking?’ Lani asks with a laugh, ‘oh look at that face! Alex Cooke…you are pouting like a girl.’

  ‘Can’t say that,’ Cookey replies huffily, ‘that’s offensive to girls and people with pouty faces.’

  ‘He is proper sulking,’ Lani laughs in delight which is a lovely sound to hear, ‘oh poor Cookey…poor Cookey being told off…’

  ‘Not sulking,’ Cookey mutters, ‘just being politically correct and…’

  ‘And what?’ Blowers asks.

  ‘Dunno, can’t think of anything else,’ Cookey huffs again, ‘and I’m not allowed to speak anyway.’

  ‘Fact,’ Blowers adds, ‘so shut the fuck up.’

  ‘I will.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘Then do it now you fucking dick.’

  ‘You can’t say that, Blowers. What if someone really is an actual fucking dick? They’d be right proper offended.’

  ‘Dunno, are you?’ Blowers asks.