by RR Haywood
The Undead
Day Eighteen
RR Haywood
Copyright © R. R. Haywood 2015
R. R. Haywood asserts his moral right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as the author of this work.
All Rights reserved.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. All characters and events, unless those clearly in the public domain, are fictitious, and any resemblance to actual persons, living, dead (or undead), is purely coincidental.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, copied, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written consent of the copyright holder, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
Design, Cover and Illustration by Eddyart.
“It was an organic transition of events that allowed the present situation to develop to its current system”
-Big Chris
“He who ceases to learn may well cease to know”
-Reginald
“Who stole Clarence’s socks?
-Paula
One
‘JAGGER…’ he shouts the warning over and over, screaming with every ounce of his strength but his voice is weak and his movements are slow. Arms and legs pumping but no motion is gained. He tries and tries to run, forcing his legs to move but the bullet soars across the distance and slams into Jagger who falls with a look of intense hurt etched on his face. ‘JAGGER…’ still he screams but there is no point now. The death shot is given and Jagger lies dying on the ground. Now he can move. Now he can run and he looks down at the face of his friend and cries real tears. ‘Jag…don’t die…Jag…’ He weeps and the pain in his heart is greater than he can take. ‘Jag…bro….’ he begs and pleads but the blood runs from Jagger’s ears onto the rain soaked ground and big drops land on Mo Mo’s cheeks to roll down his face. He wipes then away but his hand is weird. Soft and warm and wet. He wipes again but there is a course feel to the softness. He wipes harder and harder with his hand moving from chin to eye and then the other side from eye to chin. He can’t stop wiping the tears but his hand isn’t his hand.
She licks the boy’s face. In the quiet of the dawn she felt his heart soaring and heard the whimpers from a sleep disturbed. Rising silently she crosses to his bed and can both see and smell the salty tears coursing down his face and sensing the turmoil she whines softly in her throat with her own distress at the pack suffering.
His eyes open and she watches the pupils retract as he adjusts to the low light coming from the weak dawn. He swallows, exhales and blinks the silent tears as the sadness of the dream show true. His hands reach up into the soft fur of her neck and she lowers her weight gently until her head rests on his chest and his fingers run through the velvety hairs of her ears.
Quiet now. The pain eases and his heart slows from the dream. Just a dream. That’s all. Just a dream. Sleep now. I watch.
She stays put until his breathing slows and he succumbs back to the sleep his young body needs so much. The fingers on her ears stroke softer and slower until the hands go still then gently slide down to his sides.
Only when she’s sure he sleeps does she rise, turn and then stop at the sight of the small man watching silently from the door. She makes her way towards him. Past the two new pack members who sleep close together. One of them grinds her teeth and makes fists as though ready to fight. She also makes smells from her backside but she doesn't blink when she’s asleep.
The other one also whimpered and cried in the night and Meredith was there to give comfort when the pain of the dream awoke the girl. She wept too. Silent and deep and she clutched the dog to her chest like the little one used to do. Meredith didn’t mind. They were pack.
She moves past the other three, the laughing one whose emotions are so obvious. The hard faced one who sometimes takes the pack leader role and the special one she reserves extra attention for. They sleep sound and deep but they too whimpered sometimes and twitched from the motions from within their dreams.
The two that make a den together. The pack within the pack. The man is quiet but the woman has an energy that makes Meredith think of the alpha female in her old pack. The mother to the little one she used to protect.
The big pack member snores with a deep but strangely soothing rumble and even in that sleep he protects with an aura that stretches round to envelope them all.
Close to him lies the scared one who sleeps curled up like a little one. Full of fear and confusion and Meredith senses the weakness about him. He is the runt of the pack. Defenceless and relying on the others to protect him. He brings nothing to the pack and she is disinclined to show affection to one so weak.
The other female who stayed with the leader to watch the pack while they first slept and she saw when the pack leader led her back into the den and helped her lie down in her bed. She used to smell wrong, not like the things that hurt the little ones but different and that smell has now changed again, almost normal, almost.
She stops at the den of the pack leader and watches carefully, ready to show submission should he wake and look at her. Just a dip of the head and a flicker of her ears that will pull back to show she serves and accepts his leadership. His energy is charged and different to all others. A thing of such brutality of violence that it should be dark and sinister yet it is filled with a pulsing love that drives into all of them. Round him they work. Round him they run and fight and round him they kill the things that can hurt the little ones.
Then there is the other one and she trots away from the pack with her tail wagging at the man waiting in the doorway. He drops down to a crouch and gives a rare show of his teeth as she pushes into his chest. A hand, firm yet gentle sweeps down her back. He is not like the others of his kind in the pack but something between them and her. He lacks the emotions of the others yet his emotions and energy are not animal. He could lead yet he chooses not to. His power is greater than anything she has known yet there is no hunger to that power. Only submission to serve the leader with a loyalty that makes her own look paltry in comparison and she knows he would kill them all if it was needed.
He too heard the new female pack member cry out and moved into the shadows of the room with one hand holding the thing that helps him kill so quickly. She sensed him watching, always watching, and only when the new female pack member went back to sleep did he move away.
They move to the main door and she waits while he pulls the bolts back and pushes it open. Together they step out and together they sniff the air but the heavy rain still coming down dampens nearly all smells. Smoke from a fire but it’s far away.
Together they listen. Ears straining to hear past the drumming patter of the water striking the flat surfaces.
Dave waits and watches. Letting the senses of the dog work to sniff the air and hear what he cannot. She shows no alarm and walks further away to squat down and piss on the ground. She then moves further out and after finding a suitable spot she squats and defecates to relieve the pressure in her bowels.
It’s early. Dawn only just rising and even that is weak and hidden by the incessant rain still coming down from the heavy grey clouds hanging low in the sky.
The pack will sleep for longer and an image of the warm beds in the room fills the dog’s mind. The big pack member snoring noisily and the blinking girl making smells from her backside. She pushes past into the foyer and with a last glance at the small man she noses the main door open and trots back into the snug warmth of the room and over to stand in the middle of the mattresses of the young ones but there is an urge building. An instinct to do s
omething that is so strong it cannot be denied. She has to do it and to not give way to the urge is unthinkable. The long hairs on her body protect her undercoat from the rain. The droplets slide down to drip on the floor but if left, they will work through those long hairs and into the undercoat. This is the urge she has now. To rid those droplets and prevent the undercoat from being made wet. She does not know this, she only knows she has to shake and, being an exceptionally big dog, she shakes well.
With legs planted wide it starts with a swing of her head from side to side as the muscles bunch and release with an explosion of energy and force. Every inch judders with an incredible motion that has the lips of her mouth swinging up to reveal her teeth. Eyes clamped shut and the vibration goes down the neck to the shoulders and further down her long back to the tail that swishes.
Droplets start spraying off, tens that become hundreds that become thousands and with the force generated those droplets go high and wide. A cascading waterfall of rain that sails up into the air of the room made warm by so many sleeping bodies. Those droplets reach the apex of their graceful rise and start to fall and like frozen pins of acid they pummel down onto every inch of exposed skin.
‘OH MY FUCKING GOD…’ Cookey is up and bursting to his feet with a wide eyed look of shock specially reserved for those who have gone from deep sleep to awake in a split second.
‘SHIT,’ Blowers follows and rolls heroically from his mattress in a desperate attempt to be away from the danger. He rolls into Nick’s bed and clutches at the covers to protect himself.
‘FUCK OFF,’ Nick roars at the sudden removal of his cover and the exposure to the cold water striking his naked upper body.
‘AARRRGHHHH,’ Cookey went to bed topless. He, Blowers and Nick all choosing to sleep in their trousers but without tops. Of course this was done because of the warmth and the presence of Charlie had no bearing on that decision making process and he cries out trying to cover his body with his arms but too sleepy to think of moving away.
Meredith shakes. It has started now and cannot be stopped. Blowers and Nick scrapping to secure the victory of using Nick’s cover. Blowers wins and rolls himself over and over while Nick cries out and lunges to grab Mo Mo’s but the young lad is fast and rises to his feet with the cover held tight. He tries to run and flee the danger but the covers are round his feet and he goes down with a strangled yelp.
Charlie gasps with a sudden wakefulness and tries tugging her cover up but one of Meredith’s back feet trap the end and it won’t come. She pulls and tugs but the dog is heavy and there is no give. She scrabbles away, twisting onto all fours in a doomed attempt to crawl to safety.
Blinky farts and rolls over with a low muttering of threats to the other hockey player that has the ball.
Marcy snaps awake and her days of survival have served her well. She can see the danger and knows what action must be taken. Without hesitation she flings her cover back at the sight of Charlie trying to crawl to freedom and yells across the rapidly drenching gap, ‘HERE…’ Charlie clamps eyes on the place of safety and crawls faster as the raining droplets slam into her form. Marcy shuffles to make space and holds the cover open until Charlie makes the desperate dive for safety and lands on the soft warmth of the mattress. Marcy covers them both as they shiver and judder from the cold shock.
Blinky farts again and gets the ball from the other hockey player and, seeing as he referee is looking the other way, she punches the other hockey player in the face.
Clarence roars. A bear awoke from his hibernation and all shall suffer from this breach of etiquette. On his feet with a wild look and he looks over to see Nick and Blowers fighting for a duvet then Nick lunging to Mo Mo who tries to run away but trips and falls. Charlie crawling to Marcy and a foul smell from someone farting. ‘WHO LET THE BLOODY DOG OUT?’
Reginald whimpers from the fright at being woken so brutally. This new world is beyond him and the ever present danger is too much. Death everywhere. Suffering. Blood and pain and now this. Getting soaked with cold water when he was happily dreaming of doing a crossword in a nice dry café. He rolls deeper into the cover and cowers from the danger.
Paula gets walloped by a direct hit full in the face and draws a sharp breath of shock into her lungs as her heart surges to flood her body with adrenalin. She sits up and without knowing it she reaches for the assault rifle as her eyes take in the sight. Roy was protected by Paula, snuggled into her back and safe but now exposed and the water strikes his also naked torso. A grunt and he tries grabbing the cover but it’s wrapped round Paula sitting up.
‘WHO LET THE BLOODY DOG OUT?’ Paula snaps her head over to see Clarence on his feet raging into the room and anyone that was still asleep now wakes. A foul smells hits her nose. Someone farting and she gags from the stench and blinks from next direct hit of water on her face.
‘NOT FAIR!’ Blinky was seen punching the other hockey player and is not only being sent off but the referee has a hose. She shouts her frustration and sits up to sniff her own farts with a look of distaste.
‘PAULA!’ Marcy cries out at seeing her friend being so brutally assaulted, ‘IN HERE…’
Paula makes an assessment of the threats and the risks. The dog is still shaking. The water still cascading. Roy is fighting to gain the covers and protect himself. Clarence raging. Mo Mo falling over. Cookey standing there trying to cover his upper body with his arms. Marcy offering refuge as the side of her cover raises with the promise of an opening into a dry place of safety.
Decision made and she goes for it. Abandoning Roy she lunges to roll across the gap and takes Clarence’s cover as she goes. Into the opening and the three women create a fort with soft walls and giggle at the sounds of the others suffering so clearly.
Howie comes awake with a rush from sleep to conscious. Feet gained. Axe in hand and he’s up, ready for the danger and cries out in pain and agony as the water strikes his also naked torso. He tries to turn away but the rate of fire is too much. He starts going down, unable to compute the need to run and flee. Cold water strikes again and again as he sinks to his knees and the axe falls from his hands and he surrenders to the devastation being wrought against them all. Sinking to his knees then over into the foetal position, ‘ARGH IT HURTS….’
‘It’s just water,’ Marcy calls out from the safety of her fort.
‘We’re doomed…..doomed I tell you…’ Cookey wails on the spot with pathetic attempts to block the water with his hands.
‘Was that meant to be a Scottish accent?’ Blowers calls out from the depths of Nick’s cover.
‘You bastard,’ Nick turns back to dive on Blowers as Mo Mo goes down again, ‘that’s my cover…’
‘Fuck you,’ Blowers grips the cover harder as Nick starts trying to tug it free.
‘Blowers you prick…’
‘Take it for the team,’ Blowers shouts.
‘He’s got my cover,’ Nick cries into the air as he gets rapidly drenched.
‘Use mine!’ Charlie shouts from the fort.
Two people hear the words. One standing while trying to protect his body. The other gripping the cover held so tightly by Blowers. Nick and Cookey clamp eyes on each other then slowly over the vacant bed of Charlie.
‘FUCK YOU,’ Cookey goes for it.
‘She said it to me…’ Nick lunges.
Blinky is fast. Years of training and she can see that two covers will give greater protection than one and still holding her own cover she also goes for Charlie’s empty bed.
Mo Mo rolls to the side and away from the rainfall. He comes to rest facing the battle for Charlie’s bed and watches as the three land at the same time. Arms and legs tangling as covers get pulled back and forth. Cookey gets a good grip but he shouts out in victory too early as Blinky rolls bodily on him and forces the air from his chest. Nick takes the advantage and tries to rip Blink’s cover from her grasp but she grips hard and fights two fronts.
Mo Mo gets to his feet while still wrapped in the duvet a
nd starts hopping away from the battle but snags and again goes down with another strangled yelp.
‘Stop pissing about,’ yells a grumpy bear.
‘Oh God…make it stop…’ Howie wails.
‘It’s only water,’ Marcy says again with a tone of smugness from the safety of her fort.
‘Only water?’ Clarence leans down with one huge hand that grips the double cover and pulls it easily from the prone bodies of the three women so snug and warm, ‘only water?’
‘Clarence!’ Marcy yells in alarm, ‘we’re naked!’
Cookey, Nick and Blinky instantly stop fighting and as one they rise up at the suggestion of seeing naked ladies.
‘You’re not naked,’ Clarence says, ‘and it’s only water…’
‘Roy…save me,’ Paula shouts.
‘No chance,’ Roy says from the security of his own cover, ‘you deserted me.’
‘Come on,’ Clarence says holding the double duvets away from the reaching girls, ‘it’s only water.’
‘Are they really naked?’ Blinky asks.
‘No we’re not!’ Charlie shouts, ‘and she’s finished shaking,’ she adds then looks up at Clarence with a face that morphs into an expression of pure pity, ‘please,’ she says meekly, ‘can we have the covers back?’
‘Of course,’ Clarence complies immediately at the perfectly delivered request.
‘Clarence,’ Howie shouts, ‘don’t fall for it…’
‘Please,’ Charlie asks meekly again with wide eyes looking up, ‘we’re ever so cold.’
Clarence huffs and hands the cover back to the sound of victorious cackling coming from the mattress, ‘well done, Charlie,’ Marcy says.
‘So?’ Cookey asks, ‘just to be clear…they are not naked?’
‘Pervert!’ Charlie shouts.
‘Yep,’ Cookey says with a proud nod.