by RR Haywood
‘CEASEFIRE,’ Paula shouts as we close that final gap. The three stop firing and change magazines as we rush in to our rifles and kit bags already lined up and ready. With heaving chests and faces streaked with sweat and blood the rifles are taken up and on our knees we drop and aim down the road.
‘Fire,’ I shout and we open up. Assault rifles now numbering eleven and one general purpose machine gun firing sustained and controlled. They are withered. Ripped apart and once again they lose and we win.
Hand in hand. Violence and logic and as the thought enters my head so I look down the line to see Paula glancing at me with a quick smile and nod before we go back to killing those that are left.
Nineteen
‘Twenty seven minutes,’ Reginald says from behind us as the last shot is fired by Dave.
‘What was?’ I snap from being jarred out of my focus.
‘The battle took twenty seven minutes,’ he says ignoring my rasping tone. ‘Less than half an hour to kill nearly five hundred infected persons.’
‘Oh,’ I say changing magazine and putting the empty one next to the other empty ones I’ve already used. So many. Christ, I look down to see empty magazines propped on the ground. Each one of them representing thirty bullets. We just killed five hundred people in less than half an hour. ‘Seems about right,’ I say in a distracted voice then tut at the state I’m in again, ‘just got bloody changed too.’
‘Wash it off, you’ll dry in no time,’ Marcy says propping her rifle down, ‘Charlie, you got that case of water there?’
‘Right here,’ Charlie heaves it out and slits the plastic membrane before walking down the line letting us each take a bottle.
‘Got any Lucozade?’ Nick asks stepping out a few feet to pour the water over his head. ‘Your axe is awesome,’ he says turning back to Clarence.
‘Chains didn’t work though,’ he says ruefully.
‘Too long,’ Paula says, ‘and one would have done the job. Brilliant weapon to clear an immediate space so I’d recommend you keep one with you.’
‘Was good,’ I say adding my thoughts.
‘Fucking brutal,’ Blowers says, ‘can you loop one over your shoulders or something? If we get caught in a tight spot it would work very well.’
‘Yeah don’t see why not,’ Clarence says thoughtfully and looks up as Roy walks over from the Saxon, ‘good work again, mate.’
‘Cheers,’ Roy says nodding, ‘seemed to go alright,’ he adds looking round at everyone, ‘you all okay?’
‘You’s missed my nose by like this much,’ Mo says holding his thumb and forefinger apart by a fraction.
‘I would never have hit you,’ Roy replies, ‘and I got the one lunging at you.’
‘I lifted up to chop down,’ I say holding my axe up in replay, ‘and the arrow went under my wrists as I lifted…incredible…absolutely incredible.’
‘May I give feedback?’ He asks me.
‘You don’t have to ask, mate.’
‘Blinky,’ he says, ‘don’t over extend the axe when you lunge forward, you left yourself wide open a few times.’
‘Got it,’ she says between thirsty sips from the bottle, ‘on my left yeah?’
‘Yes, I had them but they were close,’ Roy says.
‘Okay, yeah will do.’
‘How did you find it?’ I ask her.
‘Fucking awesome,’ she blurts, ‘Mr Howie, Sir. Fucking awesome, Sir.’
‘You did well. Dave? Mo do alright?’
‘Good.’
‘You’re very fast,’ Paula says smiling at Mo, ‘you’ll be as fast as Lani was soon.’
‘Yeah?’ Mo asks, ‘feels slow when I look at Dave and everyone else…like everyone got their thing going on, you get me?’ He asks looking at her then back at me, ‘like Mr Howie uses the axe but he can go without it…and Dave got two knives and like Nick is just fast man, like…fucking quick…and you’s two,’ he says looking at Cookey and Blowers, ‘so tight.’
‘You’re good, Mo,’ Clarence says, ‘very good, just do what Dave says and you’ll get faster naturally.’
He snorts a dry laugh, ‘ain’t nothing natural about this.’
‘How do you mean?’ I ask.
‘I been fighting for years,’ he says, ‘estate kids, cops…men…ain’t no fighting like this though. This isn’t natural.’
‘Suppose not,’ I say with a shrug, ‘so Reginald, twenty seven minutes yeah?’
‘Indeed, twenty seven minutes from the first kill to the last.’
‘Roy’s arrow or the one I chopped in half?’
‘The one you cut, Mr Howie. I counted from that point.’
‘Went okay did it?’
‘Yes I believe we gave a satisfactory performance. I do hope you did not mind me speaking to you on the radio but I had the benefit of being able to see the bigger picture.’
‘No problem at all, I think it worked well.’
‘So far yes, we have gained the board for now and the time to set our pieces where we require while the other player believes we are celebrating in victory and gathering ourselves for the next attack. However, I would most strongly suggest we are being watched as we speak and so we…or rather you undertake to clear this area to the best of your ability.’
‘Yep, will do. You heard the man, house clearance down the main road. Kill any crawlers and shout if you see anything.’
‘Who wanted Darjeeling?’ Blowers asks, ‘was it you, Charlie?’
‘Yeah like you even need to ask,’ Cookey says with a laugh, ‘and fuck off, I’ve already said I’m getting it.’
‘Not if I find it first,’ Blowers says.
‘You won’t be looking for tea,’ Cookey says assuredly.
‘No?’ Blowers asks.
‘Nope. Butt plugs yes, tea no.’
‘Funny.’
‘I try.’
‘The tea is for me,’ Reginald says, ‘I can’t think properly without tea.’
‘Fuck me, you’re like this now without thinking properly?’ I say in awe, ‘what are you like with tea then?’
‘Sharp, Mr Howie. I am sharp,’ he says with a firm nod before disappearing back in the van and leaving a stunned silence in his wake.
Twenty
We clear the houses first. Front door to front door. Every room is checked. Up narrow staircases and into bedrooms, bathrooms and we check back gardens, sheds and every single place that could hold a single living person.
The last house on the left side of the road at the village end and a few metres back from the first bend in the road and I pause to wipe the sweat from my face then nod to Blowers who leans over to push the door handle down.
‘Wait,’ Mo hisses staring at the door slowly creaking inwards. We all freeze, staring at the young lad who tilts his head to one side and nods once before lifting his rifle and walking past all of us into the house. Blowers goes in behind him up the stairs and out of sight.
‘Boss,’ Blowers calls out. I go up with Dave right behind me to see Mo holding one finger up and pointing it at a closed bedroom door.
‘In there?’ I ask.
‘Yeah, one.’
‘You saw it?’
He shakes his head then shrugs, ‘one in there.’
‘Okay,’ I step to the door, twist the knob and give it a push before stepping back with my rifle raised. Guns bristling and eyes glaring but nothing obvious so I edge forward and gradually peer round the door to see a single adult female undead standing by the window and staring out through the thick net curtain.
‘One,’ I say lowering the rifle a few inches, ‘female.’
Dave comes in and I edge over as Blowers and Mo follow suit.
‘What you got?’ Clarence calls up the stairs.
‘Single infected in the bedroom staring out the window,’ Blowers shouts.
We hold still and something about the sight holds me frozen to the spot and I lower the rifle down to my waist. She doesn’t turn round, or rather it doesn’t turn r
ound but stays looking out the window to the street below. She’s dressed too. In jeans and a black top. They’re a bit torn and dirty but otherwise she looks normal, too normal and for a second I think I’m looking at the back of a human.
‘Oi,’ I call out and glance back to the others still holding their rifles aimed and ready.
She doesn’t move so I take a step closer to the edge of the double bed, ‘hey,’ I snap.
When she does turn it’s with poise and dignity. Standing erect with head held high and still. She doesn’t drool either and the hands appear relaxed and normal instead of clawed. Her eyes are fully red and bloodshot though and all the more terrible for the normalcy of the rest of her. We lock eyes. Me and her. Me and it.
I walk round the bed closer to the woman, to the thing, to the infection that stares back at me through a pair of red bloodshot eyes. I can’t see any injury either. Not a bite mark or cut on her visible skin. No blood and her skin, although deathly pale, isn’t the sickening grey pallor we’ve seen so much.
‘What?’ I ask shrugging my shoulders as though waiting for her to say something, ‘something you wanted?’
‘One race…’
‘Back to that yeah?’
‘What’s going on?’ Cookey asks pushing into the room, ‘oh hiya,’ he says cheerfully to the female infected, ‘is this your house?’
‘One race…’
‘Yeah we kinda heard you the first fifty million times,’ Cookey says, ‘ooh who is coming by the way?’
‘He is coming.’
‘Yeah. Who?’
‘He is coming.’
‘One what?’
‘One race.’
‘When is he coming?’
‘He is coming.’
‘One coming?’ Cookey asks scratching his chin as though confused but his questions get faster with a rally going back and forth as everyone else crowds in the room and round the door to listen.
‘One race.’
‘He is racing?’
‘He is coming.’
‘He is coming in a race?’
‘One race.’
‘He is racing to come?’
‘He is coming.’
‘Coming now?’
‘He is coming.’
‘Has he come?’
‘He is coming.’
‘In a race?’
‘One race.’
‘One face?’
‘One race.’
‘Will he come in the race?’
‘He is coming.’
‘Are you helping him?’
‘One race.’
‘Helping him to come.’
‘He is coming.’
‘He comes a lot.’
‘He is coming.’
‘On his own face?’
‘One race.’
‘On your face?’
‘One race.’
‘He race.’
‘He is coming.’
‘One coming,’ Cookey steps closer speaking faster while smiling evilly.
‘One race.’
‘He race.’
‘He is coming.’
‘He is one.’
‘One race.’
‘He is one race….FUCK!’ Cookey shouts jumping back as Meredith rushes past him and slams the female against the wall with her two front paws pressed into the chest while barking furiously. She holds the woman there for the briefest of seconds barking with huge noises into the face of the infection before clamping her jaws on the throat and tearing the flesh away with a sickening wet ripping noise.
‘Fuck’s sake,’ Cookey says sighing as the body slides down the wall, ‘I would have won that.’
‘And we’ll never know,’ Blowers chuckles.
‘Jesus, how desensitised are we?’ Cookey says staring down at the body, ‘we just watched her throat being ripped out.’
‘Fuck ‘em,’ Nick says from the bedroom door, ‘we going then or what?’
‘Yeah,’ I say as we start filing back down the stairs, ‘Mo? How do you do that?’
‘Dunno, Mr Howie,’ he says from in front of me.
‘What does it feel like then?’
‘Dunno,’ he says again, ‘like I just know…like a fact.’
‘Uncanny, mate,’ I say walking out into the sunshine to see Paula and Roy have brought both the vehicles down, ‘right, what’s next? Paula?’
‘Well,’ she says, ‘we can either have a quick break now or go through the three industrial areas and see what they’ve got to offer….or we can go on and use the drone to grab a look at Stenbury and then check on the way back here.’
‘Er…I think grabbing a look at Stenbury first would be the best idea. Everyone happy with that? Quick look then back here for a brew…fuck me, you all look knackered,’ I say looking round at the slumped shoulders and faces flushed red, ‘this heat,’ I add nodding, ‘okay, quick advanced reconnaissance pathfinder recce scouting ahead sniper sneaky ninja commando secret trip to have a sneaky peaky at Stenbury then back here for coffee and cake.’
‘Cake?’ Nick asks, ‘we got cake.’
‘No cake,’ I say, ‘just coffee. And some Camomile tea for Reginad. Or Darjeeling tea…but no cake.’
‘Unless we find some cake when we look for Reginald’s tea,’ Nick suggests, ‘like boxed and sealed…’
‘I like the cut of your jib m’lad,’ I say, ‘keep that up and you’ll go far in the apocalypse…eh Paula? We’re always looking for bright young people to be made into managers.’
‘Supervisors,’ she says.
‘To be made supervisors,’ I say to Nick, ‘have we got a supervisor management apocalypse living army training package?’
‘Er yes, yes we do,’ she says with a big smile, ‘it’s very extensive and includes an evidence based monitoring programme within which you will be given one on one training with Dave on the best ways to kill people with a knife and also personal instruction from Clarence on the best melee weapons…’
‘Good word that,’ Clarence says approvingly.
‘And Roy takes you through the basics of caring for your bow and through to the applied theory of modern warfare with Reginald and not discounting the input from Marcy on how to look your very best for the end of the world.’
‘That’s important,’ Marcy says seriously, ‘appearance matters.’
‘Then of course you will have map reading and advanced theory with Charlotte and then you’ll be paired with me on how to organise a bunch of coffee drinking caffeine pumped misfits and making sure they’ve each got clean pants to wear…’
‘I’m down to my last pair.’
‘Noted, Simon,’ she says without losing pace, ‘and finally you’ll be with Mr Howie who will give you personal and guided instruction on how to lead said living army through the waste lands of southern rural England in a thoroughly polite and rather humbling way while biting the throats out of infected people when he’s got a perfectly good axe to use.’
‘Noted,’ I say with a wince.
‘An axe, I might add,’ she says looking at me, ‘that was given to Dave for sharpening prior to the battle and the handle of which has since been scrubbed with antibac…’
‘Yep,’ I mutter again nodding in apology.
‘As have all the axes,’ she says staring round.
‘Thanks, Paula.’
‘Cheers, Paula.’
‘So how about it?’ She says breezily to Nick, ‘signing up to the management programme?’
‘Er…’
‘I’ll do it.’
‘You are banned, Cookey.’
‘What? What for?’
‘For ever,’ she says, ‘and ever and ever…’
‘So unfair.’
‘Your mum is,’ she says with one hand on her hip and one eyebrow perfectly arched as Blowers mouth drops open and the rest of us stare in shock.
‘Paula made a mum joke,’ Cookey whispers staring at her with an expression akin to fear, ‘nobody move…I think she ma
y have lost it.’
‘So, Nicholas,’ she says turning back to Nick, ‘fancy it?’
‘Nah I’m good ta,’ he says politely, ‘wouldn’t mind the cake though.’
‘Cake,’ she says, ‘cake…I’ll add it to my list of things to do. Along with getting Simon some new pants. You had new pants,’ she says turning to him, ‘in the shopping centre. I packed them myself.’
‘I’ve used them,’ he says with a shrug, ‘it’s hot.’
‘I need some more knickers too.’
‘Yes, Blinky,’ Paula says taking it all in, ‘anyone else?’
‘Socks,’ Clarence says, I can only find one pair.’
‘Who stole Clarence’s socks?’ She asks glaring round, ‘check your bags and hand them back if you’ve got them. We will not have sock thieves in our team. Anything else? Marcy? Need some mascara?’
‘You know I do. I already told you.’
‘Really?’ I ask Marcy, ‘make-up?’
‘Hey,’ she says mock serious, ‘girl’s got to make an effort these days.’
‘Actually I’ve been wearing mascara,’ Paula says, ‘not that anyone would notice.’
‘I noticed.’
‘Course you did, Roy.’
‘I did.’
‘I noticed Paula, and I thought you looked very pretty.’
‘Thank you, Cookey.’
‘Such a creep.’
‘Fuck you, Blowers.’
‘Come on then,’ she says clapping her hands, ‘load up and we’ll get moving. Nick, there’s Lucozade in the Saxon by your seat. I’ve put the original in there, you prefer that one right?’
‘Ah cheers, Paula.’
‘And there’s some tinned peaches in there too. Eat some fruit. Dave, can you make sure they eat the fruit.’
‘Yes, Paula. You will all eat the fruit. Is that understood?’
‘Yes, Dave.’
‘Yes, Dave.’
‘Yes, Dave.’
‘Nicholas?’
‘Yes, Dave.’
‘Reginald,’ I call out as I walk towards the Saxon, ‘we’ll need somewhere to launch the drone…’
‘I’ve already asked him,’ Paula says with a grin.
‘If humanity survives this it will be because of you, Paula.’