The Undead Day Eighteen

by RR Haywood

‘You knew that?’

  ‘Yes, Mr Howie.’

  ‘Could have said something, Dave.’

  ‘I just did.’

  ‘No, before…you could have said something before. Listen, the lads said Mo reacted before they were attacked yesterday. Like he knew they were coming but before there was any noise or anything…keep an eye on him.’

  ‘Do you think he is infected?’

  ‘No, not that,’ I reply and pause for a second, ‘Meredith is fine with him…just worth watching him to see if does it again.’

  ‘Okay, Mr Howie,’ he says with a curt nod.

  ‘Keep watch with them, I’ll get Roy moving. Has he got the keys yet?’

  ‘He has, he was checking each vehicle for suitability.’

  ‘They’re all the bloody same,’ I say with a glance at the three identical armoured vans.

  ‘I don’t know. I can’t drive.’

  ‘We should teach you.’

  ‘I don’t have a licence.’

  ‘You don’t need a licence now, Dave. We’ll just get some L plates.’

  ‘L plates?’

  ‘Yeah, the magnetic things they put on cars to show the driver is learning.’

  ‘Oh, okay, Mr Howie.’

  ‘I was joking. We don’t need L plates.’

  ‘I haven’t done the theory test.’

  I stare for a second and for once let my mind catch up with my mouth before I speak, ‘it’s fine, mate. We can bypass the theory test.’

  ‘Theory is an important facet of any learning experience, Mr Howie.’

  ‘Yes, it is but…no good point, we can do a theory input if you want…but er, for now just keep an eye on Mo and I’ll get this sorted out.’

  He nods smartly and marches outside and straight to Mo Mo who he stares at until the young lad looks up and smiles nervously. Subtle as a house brick.

  ‘How are you getting on?’ I ask at joining the others.

  ‘Roy’s checking the last one now,’ Marcy says, ‘like there’s a difference…’

  ‘Reginald?’

  ‘With Roy,’ Marcy says, ‘I don’t know what the hell has got into him,’ she adds darkly.

  ‘Give him a break, he’s shitting himself and hating every minute of being with us.’

  ‘He’s always shitting himself and he hates every minute of everything but he’s gone all sulky and…any good?’ She switches instantly to bright and breezy as Roy and Reginald appear walking up the side of the last van.

  ‘I think we’ll take the middle one,’ Roy says, ‘less wear on the tyres and the interior is cleaner.’

  ‘Praise the lord,’ Clarence mutters, ‘he’s made a decision. Have you seen inside?’ He asks me.

  ‘Only that one I told you about…can’t imagine it’s that different.’

  I follow him between the vans to the rear of the middle one where Roy is waiting to give the guided tour.

  ‘Rear door, solid and armoured,’ Roy swings the single door a few times, ‘hinges are hidden and protected, the seals are tight…double skin panels,’ he reaches out to tap the back end of the vehicle, ‘inside we have a desk, bolted to the floor as you can see and a chair also bolted but on runners so the position can be adjusted. Then on this side we have shelving units all coded with numbers that must have been used to store the cash bags from each premises they visited. The roof has an escape hatch sealed from the inside and there is another door leading to the front cab which is also locked from the inside. Air flow comes from vents but the vents on the outside are hidden to prevent anyone pumping gas inside I guess…and er…’ he pauses to look round then points at a fire extinguisher attached to the wall, ‘fire extinguisher…oh the windows,’ he says with a look of love in his eyes, ‘they’re sealed and riveted and not even glass but a high density polycarbonate I would suggest,’ he taps the Perspex and nods as though expecting us all to make appreciative noises, which we do.

  ‘The best thing though,’ he says, ‘is this…’ with a flourish he presses something on the desk and a flat screen monitor lifts up enough for him to prise it into an upright position, ‘security camera feed,’ he says tapping the screen, ‘oh, actually I haven’t tested the electrics on all of them yet…’

  ‘Roy, we need to get going,’ I cut him off, ‘test this one and if it works we’ll use it.’

  ‘Yes, yes of course…hang on…’ he climbs through the open door into the cabin and settles in the driver’s seat. A few seconds later and the engine thrums gently to life with a slight vibration through the frame.

  ‘Sounds good,’ Clarence calls out from next to me, ‘been idle for over two weeks so…’

  ‘Is the screen on?’ Roy calls out twisting in the seat to stare down the back.

  ‘Er…no, mate,’ I say leaning in to look at the monitor, ‘Reginald, does it need turning on?’

  ‘Ah yes,’ Reginald moves from the side by the shelves and presses the bottom corner of the monitor. Immediately the screen comes to life with four images showing in high definition on a split screen format.

  ‘Bloody hell,’ I say in genuine surprise at the clarity of the live feed, ‘where are the cameras?’

  ‘Light clusters?’ Clarence says moving to the rear passenger side lights and bending down to stare close so his big face looms on the bottom left quarter of the screen.

  ‘Yep,’ I say, ‘Reginald? This okay for you?’

  ‘Yes, thank you,’ he says politely, ‘as long as Roy doesn't mind having my company.’

  ‘Fine with me,’ Roy shouts from the front, ‘you don’t talk that much do you…so…’

  ‘Oh he bloody does when he gets going,’ Marcy says under her breath.

  ‘How many seats in the front, Roy?’

  ‘Two, and that one in the back…but then we can carry more if they sit on the floor.’

  ‘What about that shelving?’ I ask, ‘takes up a lot of space.’

  ‘It’s in three sections,’ Roy says climbing back into the rear, ‘I was thinking we could remove two sections and keep one for storage.’

  ‘Perfect, can you do it now?’

  ‘I can,’ Clarence says heaving himself up into the back, ‘which one do you want to keep?’ He asks gripping one end as he braces to rip it free.

  ‘God no!’ A look of panic crosses Roy’s face, ‘do it properly…undo the bolts and…’

  ‘We don’t have time for that, Roy,’ Clarence says.

  ‘Roy,’ Paula leans into the back, ‘we can’t stay here for long…they could be watching us right now.’

  ‘Okay okay, fine,’ he says with a worried look, ‘just try not to break anything.’

  ‘But I am breaking it,’ Clarence says, ‘I’m breaking this…’

  ‘We’ll unload the Saxon,’ I walk towards the back of our vehicle, ‘Dave, send a couple of the lads in to help move the kit over.’

  I get in the back and stare down in dismay at the sheer amount of ammunition cases and bags of gear littered everywhere then smile at the first splintering wrenching sound comes from Clarence smashing shit up. I pass boxes out to the lads who stack them on the ground while we sort GPMG ammunition from assault rifle and pistol rounds. Grenades, bags of clothing, spare equipment taken from the shops yesterday.

  ‘Nick,’ I call out from the inside of the Saxon, ‘Roy’s van will have a radio, can you make it connect to ours in here…’

  ‘What’s the frequency setting?’

  ‘What’s the what what?’

  ‘I’ll go and look.’

  ‘Good God we’ve got some shit in here…who let it get this messy?’

  Roy’s van, minus the shelving ripped out by Clarence and cast aside in a heap, backs out of the space and manoeuvres so the rear door butts up close to the Saxon.

  We unload, load, re-load, stack and sort through everything until the Saxon and the new van slowly start getting put in order. Nick runs between the two checking the radios and looking intently happy with screw drivers and wire strippers in his hands.<
br />
  I leave them to it and go out the gates to see Charlie, Blinky and Dave scanning the area, ‘everything okay?’

  ‘Feels like we’re being watched,’ Charlie replies softly.

  I stop next to her, ‘we probably are. In fact, I would guess that right now there’s some rancid fucker staring right at us and listening to every word we say. Some ugly. Rancid. Disgusting. Putrid. Filthy. Horrible. Vile. Contagious. Diseased…did I say putrid?’

  ‘You did,’ she says.

  ‘Er…Filthy. Warped. Twisted. Weak….Er…Help me out…’

  ‘Oh gosh,’ she says and pauses to think, ‘I would say, yes…I would say they are a nauseatingly repulsive foul abomination of creatures…’

  ‘Nice,’ I say appreciatively.

  ‘Or,’ she adds after another second of thinking, ‘a villainous vicious monstrously demonic fetid group of…er…’

  ‘Cunts?’ Blinky suggests.

  ‘Yes…that word,’ Charlie says.

  ‘They’ll be gathering,’ I look down and speak low, ‘or massing somewhere nearby…We’ll get the...SHIT DAVE!’ I drop down as the gunshot booms right behind me, ‘what the fuck?’

  ‘Got it,’ he says lowering the rifle, ‘up there…third floor window on the far right.’

  I twist round while my heart races from the fright of the unexpected gunshot to see him still aiming down to the left side of the street and up at the windows of a building.

  ‘Which one?’

  ‘The bakery,’ he says.

  ‘Yeah I see it,’ I say and start looking at the windows above the bakery.

  ‘Next to that is a shoe shop.’

  ‘Yeah…’

  ‘Next to that is a clothes shop.’

  ‘Yes,’ I say slowly.

  ‘Next to that is a café.’

  ‘Yes, café.’

  ‘Next to that is a chemist.’

  ‘Chemist. Yes, Dave.’

  ‘Next to that is a…I don’t know what that is…’

  ‘Betting shop,’ I say at the sight of the posters in the window.’

  ‘And next to that is a travel agents shop.’

  ‘Yes…’

  ‘And next to that is another chemist.’

  ‘Yes, Dave…’

  ‘And next to that is a pet shop.’

  ‘Dave…’

  ‘And next to that is a book shop.’

  ‘Dave…which…’

  ‘And next to that is a Spar convenience store.’

  ‘Right, yes…’ I rub my face.

  ‘And next to that is Santander.’

  ‘Yep, Santander.’

  ‘…’

  ‘Santander?’

  ‘Yes, Mr Howie.’

  ‘We got to Santander and you stopped.’

  ‘Yes, Mr Howie.’

  ‘Which bloody…’

  ‘Do you mean the windows above Santander?’

  ‘Yes, Charlotte.’

  ‘The third floor…the window on the far right…’

  ‘Yes, Charlotte.’

  ‘Dave.’

  ‘Yes, Mr Howie.’

  ‘You could have just said Santander.’

  ‘I did.’

  ‘No, I mean instead of saying all the other shops you could have just said Santander…’

  ‘A process of thought,’ Charlotte says, ‘that was clear and understandable.’

  ‘That’s fucking miles away,’ Blinky says in awe at the window down the far end of the street.

  ‘Yes, yes it was clear but…’

  ‘What’s going on?’ The rest come running from the yard with rifles ready.

  ‘Dave saw one in the window above Santander,’ I say.

  ‘Where’s that?’ Clarence asks scanning the street.

  ‘Down there,’ I point to the left.

  ‘Er…’

  ‘Next to the Spar,’ I say.

  ‘Spar?’ Clarence says shielding his eyes from the sun.

  ‘Fuck me…next to the book shop.’

  ‘What book shop?’

  ‘Next to the fucking pet shop!’

  ‘Can’t see it.’

  ‘Oh for fuck’s sake you are shitting me…’

  ‘Chemist,’ Charlie says.

  ‘Yeah I can see the chemist’s,’ Clarence says, ‘got a café next door.’

  ‘Oh my god…’

  ‘Not that chemist,’ Charlie says, ‘the travel agents?’

  ‘Travel agents…’ Clarence says, ‘yep, I can see that…’

  ‘Travel agents?’ Marcy asks.

  ‘Next to the betting shop,’ Clarence says helpfully.

  ‘Above the betting shop?’ Paula asks.

  ‘No…above Santanfuckingder,’ I groan.

  ‘Where’s Santander?’ Blowers asks shielding his own eyes to stare down the street.

  ‘Next to the fucking Spar!’

  ‘They’re both red,’ Marcy says, ‘which one is Santander?’

  ‘The one further away,’ Charlie says, ‘the closest one is the Spar which is next to the…’

  ‘Howie?’ Paula says, ‘are you okay?’

  ‘Fine! Is Roy finished?’

  ‘Roy will never be finished,’ Paula says without a flicker of expression, ‘but yes, he’s finished enough for us to go.’

  ‘Thank fuck, we’re moving out. Nick, did you get the…where’s Nick?’

  ‘Doing the radios like you asked him,’ Marcy says.

  ‘Right,’ I stomp back in the yard, ‘Nick, how you getting on?’

  ‘Er hang on,’ he shouts from somewhere, ‘the radio from the new van is encrypted.’

  ‘Where are you?’

  ‘In the Saxon.’

  I get to the open passenger door to find him fitting a new radio into a set of stripped wires. ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Hang on,’ he turns his head and spits the screwdriver from his mouth, ‘radio from one of the other vans. This one,’ he taps the Saxon’s original radio, ‘doesn't work with this one,’ he taps the new one, ‘so we wouldn’t be able to talk to each other…so I took a radio from one of the other vans and split the antenna wire to our old radio to feed into this one so…we…shit, Roy? We using yellow as the live?’

  ‘Yes,’ Roy shouts from somewhere else.

  ‘Yellow is live,’ Nick mutters to himself and pushes a yellow wire into the back of the new radio, ‘so we took a radio from one of the other vans,’ he repeats with a glance at me, ‘and yeah…and er Roy is taking the radio from the last van and we’ll put that into the back of the Saxon.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘The back of Roy’s van has a radio, and the front…and the front of this one will have on and the back too…so we can all talk.’

  ‘Awesome, how long will it take?’

  ‘Five minutes, Mr Howie.’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘What was the gunshot?’

  ‘Dave saw one in a window about ten miles away.’

  ‘He get it?’

  ‘Yep, but they know we’re here.’

  ‘Understood. Right, let’s see,’ he pushes the radio back into a cubby hole and presses a button on the front, ‘got power,’ he says as the front lights up, ‘Roy, what’s your preset?’

  ‘Seven is displayed on the front.’

  ‘Seven,’ Nick mutters pushing a button to cycle through numbers until the display reads 07, ‘Nick to Roy…Nick to Roy,’ he says pressing the button on the side of the handset.

  ‘Yep, got you loud and clear…’

  ‘Result,’ Nick beams, ‘loud and clear, Roy.’

  ‘Fuck me,’ I mutter, ‘well done, I’m impressed. What’s the range?’

  ‘Should be very good,’ Nick says, ‘they had to reach the base.’

  ‘It worked then?’ Roy appears by the driver’s door.

  ‘Spot on,’ Nick says, ‘we’ll do the other one later, boss wants to get going.’

  ‘Load up,’ I step back and call out, ‘Paula, you going with Roy?’

  ‘Yep,’ sh
e says running in with the others, ‘for now but not all the time…unless anyone else wants to go in there?’

  ‘Not now,’ I say before another discussion can commence, ‘Roy, Paula and Reginald in the new van, everyone else in the Saxon.’

  ‘Plan?’ Paula shouts as the rest head for the Saxon.

  ‘Town centre’ I say keeping my voice low, ‘we’ll see if we can draw them out…from here on we’re armed, loaded with bags on and hand weapons in reach…’

  ‘Boss,’ Blowers says with a wince, ‘Charlie and Blinky don’t have hand weapons.’

  ‘Nor do I,’ Marcy says, ‘or Reginald…who isn’t carrying his rifle by the way.’

  ‘I saw, it’s up to him. You’ve got knives? Use them for now until we can find something else. Nick, up top and keep a look for them.’

  ‘On it, can I smoke up there?’

  ‘Crack on.’

  ‘Thanks, boss.’

  ‘Dave and Blowers take the last seats either side of the back doors,’ I say much to everyone’s surprise, ‘they’re your seats from now on so you can direct the team as they get out.’

  ‘Got it,’ Blowers nods firmly as he swaps seats with Mo Mo to sit opposite Dave who was already in place.

  ‘Nick, don’t use the GPMG until we really need it, you’re up there to keep watch.’

  ‘Okay,’ he shouts down.

  I get round into the driver’s seat and climb up with relief at finally being able to move off and grab the handset for the new radio, ‘Saxon to van.’

  ‘Is that what we are?’

  ‘Yes, Paula, you’re the van.’

  ‘Okay, er…van go ahead over and out.’

  ‘We’ll go first, stay behind…where’s Clarence?’

  ‘Pardon?’

  ‘In the back,’ he says from behind me, ‘I can stretch my legs out now.’

  ‘Clarence should be with you.’

  ‘Yeah sorry, Paula…I didn’t mean you.’

  ‘Do you mind me being up here?’ Marcy asks.

  ‘No course not.’

  ‘Pardon? Howie, are you talking to us?’

  ‘No! Hang on…No, it’s fine…yeah Paula, stay behind…we’ll move out now.’

  ‘Did you find Clarence?’

  ‘He’s in the back.’

  ‘Who’s up front then?’

  ‘Marcy.’

  ‘Cosy…’

  ‘Over and out, Paula.’

  Day Eighteen

  A brief update.