The Undead Day Eighteen

by RR Haywood

  ‘Can I come into your bed?’ Blinky asks.

  ‘No. You’ve been farting all night,’ Charlie shouts back.

  ‘Was that you?’ Nick asks with a look of horror at Blinky.

  ‘Yeah,’ Blinky chuckles, ‘probably.’

  ‘I didn’t fart,’ Cookey says, ‘so…’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Fine,’ he huffs and looks over at Blowers, ‘coward,’ he tuts.

  ‘Fuck you,’ Blowers mutters, ‘standing there bloody crying…I stole Nick’s bed.’

  ‘So you’re sleeping in Nick’s bed?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘In Nick’s bed?’ Cookey asks again as Blowers looks up with a look of suspicion, ‘in Nick’s nice warm bed made warm by his naked body…that warm bed…is that right?’

  ‘Fuck you,’ Blowers growls, ‘it’s not…’

  ‘So is,’ Cookey laughs with delight.

  ‘Gay,’ Blinky says the word the other two were holding back from saying, ‘so gay.’

  ‘Coffee,’ Clarence stomps about his bed area gathering clothes and his bag, ‘I need coffee and Mr Howie needs coffee…do you need coffee, Mr Howie?’

  ‘You never call me Mr Howie…you always say boss…but yes, Cookey? Are you still on brew duty?’

  ‘Er no?’ Cookey replies, ‘Dave said I was now forgiven for all past sins due to my heroic efforts yesterday.’

  ‘I did not say that, Alex,’ a voice calls from the reception.

  ‘How!’ Cookey exclaims, ‘how did he hear that?’

  ‘I hear everything,’ Dave says pushing the doors open as he walks into the room, ‘and you two can make the brews,’ he says with a nod at Cookey and Nick.

  ‘HA!’ Blowers says in delight, ‘you got Daved.’

  ‘And Simon will be assisting you,’ Dave adds, ‘Mohammed, why are you over there?’

  ‘I tried running but fell.’

  ‘Good evasive manoeuvre but poorly executed. You will assist making the brews.’

  ‘Yes, Dave.’

  ‘Charlotte and Patricia,’ Dave looks round to see Charlie’s head poking out from the covers, ‘while the brews are being made you will work with me to strip and clean all the rifles before we commence a live firing exercise.’

  ‘Yes, Dave,’ Blinky jumps to her feet with an attempt at standing to attention.

  ‘Can I go to the toilet first?’ Charlie asks politely.

  ‘You may use the ablutions,’ Dave says before turning to face Howie still curled up on the ground, ‘Mr Howie,’ he says formally, ‘it is still raining.’

  ‘No shit,’ Howie mutters slowly sitting up.

  ‘She did.’

  ‘Eh?’

  ‘Meredith, Mr Howie.’

  ‘What about her?’

  ‘She had one.’

  ‘What? One what?’

  ‘Outside.’

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘That’s how she got wet.’

  ‘Oh my god…it’s too early…Dave,’ Howie groans and rubs his face, ‘what did Meredith do?’

  ‘She had a shit,’ Marcy says, ‘Dave is telling you she had a shit outside.’

  ‘Yes,’ Dave says.

  ‘Oh,’ Howie blinks in understanding, ‘got it…so I said no shit and you thought I was asking if there actually was no shit but the response was as in a turn of phrase used when someone states something very obvious…’

  ‘Yes, Mr Howie. She did. Outside.’

  ‘Yep,’ Howie says getting to his feet, ‘got it…but er…I wasn’t actually asking if she had a shit. I was replying to your statement when you said it was raining and I said no shit as in yeah I can tell it’s raining seeing as Meredith is soaking wet.’

  ‘She got wet outside, Mr Howie.’

  ‘Yes, yes I can…I know that…’

  ‘Cookey!’

  ‘Yes, Paula?’ Cookey calls from the kitchen.

  ‘Mr Howie really needs that coffee.’

  ‘Coming…’

  Howie pauses as though ready to resume the conversation before shrugging and reaching down for his bag and rifle, ‘I’m going to the bathroom to get dried.’

  ‘Good idea,’ Clarence follows suit as Roy heaves himself up from the bed and takes his own bag and rifle after the other two.

  ‘Reginald,’ Roy pauses at his mattress, ‘you coming?’ He waits as Reginald pushes his covers back and gets to his feet, ‘you okay?’ Roy asks and gets a shallow nod in return. ‘Sleep okay?’

  ‘Fine, thank you,’ Reginald says quietly earning a worried glance from Marcy as he says it. He walks after Roy with the same slumped appearance as the day before. Head down, shoulders low and his steps as heavy as though he’d walked a great distance.

  ‘You worried?’ Paula asks as the room empties with everyone either in the kitchen or using the bathrooms of the hotel.

  ‘The life’s gone out of him,’ Marcy says, ‘he’s not even moaning now.’

  ‘Bad sign. Do you think he’s jealous?’

  ‘What from?’ Marcy asks, ‘Howie? God no…’ she says with a smile, ‘Reginald isn’t like that.’

  ‘Sure? Maybe he is but doesn't show it.’

  ‘No, definitely not that. I know Reggie and he doesn't think like that. He’s just overwhelmed by everyone here.’

  ‘He can go with Roy when he gets a van,’ Paula says, ‘will that help?’

  ‘Hope so,’ Marcy says with a quizzical look, ‘so you’re not going with Roy then?’

  ‘Leaving? We said yesterday…’

  ‘No I mean when Roy gets a van, you’re not going in his van with him?’

  ‘Oh I see…yes, yes maybe I should.’

  ‘Should?’

  ‘I like being in with everyone else,’ Paula says carefully, ‘but…I don’t know if Roy will be offended if I don’t go with him in his van.’

  ‘Do both,’ Marcy says, ‘we can use the second van for anyone that needs a quiet time out.’

  ‘Ah, good idea,’ Paula says approvingly.

  ‘So you can stay with us,’ Marcy says, ‘or we can use it as a sin bin for Cookey,’ she adds with a laugh.

  ‘You’d put Cookey in with Roy and Reggie?’ Paula asks with a chuckle.

  ‘Okay, maybe not.’

  ‘So, you okay?’ Paula asks with a glance loading with meaning and rolls onto her side to face the other woman.

  Marcy laughs and rolls to face Paula, ‘fine thank you, and you?’

  ‘Fine.’

  ‘Good. I’m fine too.’

  ‘Good,’ Paula grins, ‘anything happen in the night?’

  ‘Now why on earth would you ask that?’ Marcy asks with a bright smile.

  ‘That won’t work on me,’ Paula laughs, ‘you went out with Howie last night…to the reception.’

  ‘Oh you saw that then?’

  ‘I did. So?’

  ‘Nothing happened,’ Marcy says with the smile easing gently away, ‘we held hands and sat on the desk…then I fell asleep on his shoulder and at some point he brought me back in here.’

  ‘Oh,’ Paula says as though disappointed as Marcy chuckles at the tone.

  ‘And he ravished me,’ Marcy adds with a grin.

  ‘Ooh that’s better,’ Paula replies with malicious delight, ‘what happened?’

  ‘Er,’ Marcy pulls a face, ‘er…he led me outside into the rain and we made wild love on the er…the golf sandpit?’

  ‘No?’ A shocked Paula asks.

  ‘Oh yes,’ Marcy nods seriously, ‘and there were roses and candles and…’

  ‘Sod the roses,’ Paula chuckles again.

  ‘He was a wild animal,’ Marcy continues, ‘ripping my clothes off and growling like a beast.’

  ‘A beast?’

  ‘A wild beast?’

  ‘A very wild beast,’ Marcy says, ‘dominant and strong…like a…like a….caveman.’

  ‘Caveman?’ Paula bursts out laughing.

  ‘I don’t know! I couldn’t think of anything else. No, we just held hands and
I dribbled on his shoulder.’

  ‘Bless.’

  ‘I wouldn’t do that,’ Marcy says seriously, ‘Lani only died yesterday.’

  ‘Yes,’ Paula says slowly, ‘but these are different times.’

  ‘Different how?’

  ‘Time is magnified. I’ve only just met Roy and would never have slept with him so quickly but it’s different now. Everything happens so quickly and it’s like everything is sped up? So things happen faster. I’ve only been with this group for a few days but it feels like weeks…months even.’

  ‘Yes it does,’ Marcy says thoughtfully, ‘it kind of feels like that now.’

  ‘It will for Charlie and Blinky too. My point is that yes Lani only just died but remember that Howie only knew Lani for a few days. I adored Lani, we all did. The same as I adored everyone else I knew before this happened…but like I said, Marcy. These are different times. Listen, what we’re doing is special. We all know that…you and Reggie were turned but now you’re not…if anyone else knew what you did they’d kill you instantly but this lot accept you for you and who you are now and they do that because of Howie. We’re all here because of Howie.’

  Marcy listens intently, watching Paula speaking and noticing the intense look in her eyes.

  ‘What I’m saying,’ Paula drops her voice, ‘is that if you and Howie can take comfort from each other then do it. Take it. Take it as much as you can. You know what we’re doing today right?’ She watches Marcy nodding and hanging off every word being said, ‘we’re going to find them and kill them…and no matter what happens Howie won’t stop…so,’ Paula hesitates before proceeding, ‘so if you, or if Howie, needs that comfort…’ She trails off, not needing to finish the sentence as Marcy nods with understanding.

  Two

  In the bathroom of a small hotel room and after pissing in the toilet I start brushing my teeth while casually looking about at the clean sterile shelves and the gleaming taps. My hair is getting a bit long and needs a trim. I shaved yesterday and could do it again now but sod it, I can’t be arsed.

  Christ my body is covered in bruises and cuts. I drop my hand holding the toothbrush and stare at the discoloured patches of skin and the bite marks on my shoulders and arms. The cuts from fingernails across my chest and the livid welts of skin. The contrast from the room to me is stark. White, sterile and clean against bruised and dirtied by death. I twist round and use the mirror to look at my back and the scars and marks all over it. Barely a few inches of clear skin anywhere that doesn't have a mark of some kind on it.

  Every picture paints a thousand words and every mark is from a fight against those fucking things and represents a life taken and a life lost. Each bruise is from a person that had hopes and desires who loved and felt love. I’m not a naïve fool and I know many would have been nasty bastards that probably deserved it but so many didn’t. So many were taken from their beds and consumed in utter terror while watching their loved ones get torn apart, or worse, they were taken by those loved ones and suddenly my mind fills with the images of the children that stalked Marcy and I down the garden and that consuming energy is back.

  I get dressed. New socks. Boots tugged on and laced up. My top is shaken out and pulled down over my head and I re-pack my new bag and head down the corridor to the reception and the local maps and guidebooks on display. I gather them up and go inside the main room to find tables have been pulled together with fresh cups of coffee being brought out.

  Charlie and Blinky work to one side with Dave talking them through how to strip and clean the weapons again and Blowers helping. Reginald sits quietly at the far end of the table, withdrawing himself from the main group. Everyone else is gathering kit and belongings, drinking coffee and talking amiably.

  ‘Any?’ I ask Cookey with a hand stretching out towards the coffee mugs.

  ‘Er, that one is yours,’ he slides one over.

  I take a sip from the mug and feel the instant psychological boost at the taste of the strong bitter liquid, ‘spot on, mate.’

  ‘What you got there?’ Clarence asks with a glance at the books from reception in my hand.

  ‘Mm,’ swallowing the mouthful I put the books on the table, ‘maps…to work out our cunning plan…and…’

  ‘Tourist guides?’ Clarence picks one of the books up, ‘we going sightseeing?’

  ‘Just grabbed what was there.’

  ‘English Heritage…’ he reads from the front and flicks through the pamphlets and books, ‘castles…stately homes…places to visit…country walk anyone? Oh yes!’ He holds one up with a grin, ‘the real ale guide to the south of England…’

  ‘We should do that one,’ Roy says.

  ‘You like real ale?’ Clarence asks.

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Me and Roy just bonded,’ Clarence announces.

  ‘Guinness,’ Blowers calls out from the other table.

  ‘You a Guinness man, Blowers?’ Clarence asks, ‘I thought you’d be lager and fighting down the boozer after doing tequila shots.’

  ‘Yep,’ Blowers says with a broad grin, ‘and Guinness.’

  ‘Now Cookey,’ Clarence says with a smile, ‘is a lager man through and through, so is Nick…’

  ‘Racist,’ Cookey says.

  ‘Mo Mo…hmmm, what’s your tipple, Mo?’

  ‘I don’t drink alcohol,’ Mo says seriously.

  ‘Shit sorry,’ Clarence sputters his coffee in the rush to apologise, ‘is that because of your religion?’

  ‘Nah I’m sixteen innit,’ Mo grins, ‘too young to drink bro, you get me?’

  ‘Little shit,’ Clarence tuts.

  ‘You’re sixteen?’ Charlie cuts in.

  ‘Yeah,’ Mo Mo says turning round.

  ‘You’re older than that,’ Charlie says, ‘I thought you were at least eighteen.’

  ‘Nah, sixteen,’ Mo Mo replies lifting a few inches from the ground and his head threatening to split in half from the wide grin.

  ‘So what is your favourite drink then?’ Cookey asks him.

  ‘Dunno,’ Mo says with a shrug, ‘I drank beer once but I was stoned and puked up.’

  ‘You smoked cannabis?’ Charlie asks with genuine shock, ‘but that’s illegal.’

  ‘Oh my god!’ Cookey jumps up quickly with his hands waving in the air and his best posh accent, ‘you smoked drugs?’

  ‘Very funny,’ Charlie says drily, ‘I do not sound like that.’

  ‘You so do,’ Blowers says.

  ‘I do not,’ Charlie says primly, ‘not that extreme anyway. But really, Mo. Did you smoke cannabis?’

  ‘Er yeah.’

  ‘But…but who gave it to you? You’re only sixteen. Did the police know? What’s so funny?’ She asks at the lads all laughing, ‘he is only sixteen and should not have been smoking drugs.’

  ‘Yeah Mo,’ Nick says, ‘where did the drugs come from?’

  ‘Oh my god!’ Cookey goes for it again, ‘you smoked drugs?’

  ‘I really do not sound like that,’ Charlie says again, ‘Blinky, do I sound like that?’

  ‘Yep,’ Blinky says focussing on the task of re-assembling an assault rifle, ‘posh as fuck.’

  ‘You speak very nicely,’ Paula says.

  ‘But where did Mo get the drugs from?’ Cookey asks aghast with his hands pressed to his cheeks.

  ‘Where did you get the drugs from?’ Charlie asks with a frown.

  ‘From me,’ Mo laughs, ‘was a dealer.’

  ‘Oh my god!’ Cookey bursts to his feet again, ‘you were a drug dealer?’

  ‘And a burglar?’ Nick asks with the same shock.

  ‘And you stole cars?’ Blowers asks.

  ‘Oh my god!’ Cookey shakes his head, ‘did the police know?’

  ‘Really?’ Charlie asks.

  ‘Yep,’ Mo Mo says and despite the grin I detect a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes.

  ‘But he’s our burglar and thief now,’ Clarence says in his deep assuring voice, ‘and those skills are g
ood skills.’

  ‘Mo’s fucking awesome,’ Nick says with a nod at the younger man, ‘he got in this place and got the fuel from that truck yesterday…’

  ‘And he’ll be like Dave if he gets any faster with those knives,’ Blowers adds.

  ‘Yeah,’ Cookey says slowly while leaning back in his chair with his hands interlinked behind his head, ‘I was a male escort before this…’

  ‘Fucking twat,’ Blowers laughs.

  ‘Very successful,’ Cookey nods and adds a wink, ‘let’s just say there was high demand for my services…’

  ‘Such a dick,’ Nick groans.

  ‘I was committed to it…took it seriously…worked hard and then I met April and…’

  ‘Oh for God’s sake,’ Paula sinks her head onto the table, ‘Dave…tell him…’

  ‘Alex.’

  ‘Aw but I didn’t say it.’

  ‘Don’t say it.’

  ‘Aw, Dave…’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Okay, sorry, Dave.’

  ‘Oh let him say it,’ Paula groans, ‘Dave…can he say it once before he sulks?’

  ‘Dave?’ I look over with a grin at the sight of Cookey’s bottom lip pouting out.

  ‘Once,’ Dave says in his flat voice.

  ‘And no punishment?’ Cookey asks quietly as though hardly daring to believe it.

  ‘Once.’

  ‘But Dave cut her head off and I was heartbroken and knew the love of my life was gone forever and that’s when I decided that being a male escort wasn’t for me anymore…’ Cookey rushes the words out to his grinning audience, ‘I thank you,’ he adds.

  ‘Right, on to the serious plan of making serious plans,’ I say.

  ‘Serious cunning plans,’ Clarence slides one of the maps over and starts opening it out.

  ‘Proper serious cunning plans,’ I slide one of the maps to me and start opening it out.

  ‘Full on intense serious properly thought out cunning plans,’ Clarence says turning the map round while squinting at it, ‘but not with this…this is a map of golf courses…’

  ‘And this is a map of country walks,’ I cast mine aside and grab another.

  ‘Ah,’ Clarence says opening his next map out, ‘we’ve got country walks…’ that one gets pushed off the table.

  ‘This is the map for the real ale pubs…I think it goes with that guidebook you had a minute ago.’