The Undead Day Eighteen

by RR Haywood

  ‘Yep, probably.’

  Twenty-One

  We leave Flitcombe behind and drive through the series of bends out of the village and onto a wide main road bordered by high hedgerows. Puddles steaming and still deep at the sides but the water is evaporating fast in this incredible heat. It’s so close and muggy, like the weather you get before a big storm only far worse.

  Tins of peaches are opened and one passed up to me to eat while I drive the vehicle, which is tricky and messy and only just about accomplished.

  ‘Marcy with us?’ I ask realising Clarence is up front with me and turning while eating a slice of slippery peach and navigating the bendy road ahead.

  ‘In Roy’s van,’ Clarence says reaching out to grip the wheel, ‘she swapped with Charlie.’

  ‘Charlie in the back here?’

  ‘Behind you, Mr Howie.’

  ‘Oh okay, just checking. You alright then?’

  ‘Fine thank you, Mr Howie.’

  ‘Going alright with Reggie?’

  ‘Yes fine thank you, Mr Howie.’

  ‘He’s switched on. All those things he said.’

  ‘He is deceptively intelligent,’ Charlie says, ‘really very intelligent.’

  ‘Yeah?’ Clarence asks half turning to look round at Charlie, ‘he just needs some confidence in himself.’

  ‘And a tie.’

  ‘A what?’ Clarence asks smiling.

  ‘A tie. A neck tie. In fact he needs a shirt and tie.’

  ‘We offered back at the shopping centre didn’t we?’ Blowers asks.

  ‘Yeah but I think it offended him,’ I say.

  ‘Reginald is very aware of social structures,’ Charlie says diplomatically, ‘and would actively seek to avoid any social situations that would render him to be seen as a difficulty.’

  ‘But he told you he wants a tie?’ Clarence asks.

  ‘No. He keeps moving his hands to adjust the tie…I kept seeing it and…’

  ‘He does that all the time,’ Cookey says, ‘like this,’ he adds mimicking Reginald’s hands going to his neck.

  ‘That’s it,’ Charlie says, ‘he does it as a stress reliever, something for his hands to do. Like a smoker?’

  ‘Well,’ Clarence says deeply, ‘best get him a shirt and tie then.’

  ‘Wouldn’t that offend him?’ I ask, ‘like…you just said about social awkwardness.’

  ‘Yes and yes it would,’ she says, ‘but perhaps the having of the shirt and tie would be the lesser of two evils in comparison to his needing that reassurance of himself against the difficulty he would suffer in asking.’

  ‘Er…’ I say.

  ‘She said we can get him a tie,’ Blinky says.

  ‘Ah cool,’ I say.

  ‘I speak Charlotte,’ Blinky adds, ‘when she’s being all posh and shit.’

  ‘I am not being all posh and…’

  ‘So are,’ Blinky scoffs, ‘you get soooo posh in front of Mr Howie and Clarence.’

  ‘Blinky!’ Charlie says sharply, ‘that is not appropriate.’

  ‘Ah stop blushing,’ Blinky snaps.

  ‘Then stop drawing attention to my faults.’

  ‘You? You don’t have faults.’

  ‘I do and can we cease this discussion in front of the others please.’

  ‘Whatever.’

  ‘Charlie,’ Blowers says, ‘don’t worry about it, mate. We’re living on top of each other, we’ll get on each other’s tits all the time.’

  ‘You said tits to Charlie,’ Cookey says slurping a peach slice down, ‘that’s not appropriate.’

  ‘Sorry, Charlie,’ Blowers says seriously.

  ‘It’s fine. I am not posh.’

  ‘Yeah you are,’ Cookey says laughing, ‘it’s awesome.’

  ‘Really I am not.’

  ‘Fuck it, be you,’ Nick says, ‘you’ve got a lovely way of speaking. Wish I could speak like that.’

  ‘Yeah me too,’ Cookey says, ‘you finished, Mo?’

  ‘Yeah, was nice. I like the way you’s talk, Charlie. Maddox could do that when he needed.’

  ‘Do what?’ Charlie asks politely.

  ‘Like switch to talking nicely, he spoke like we did to us but the bossman made him learn how talk properly, you get me?’

  ‘I think so.’

  ‘So’s like, how do you do it?’ Mo asks.

  ‘Talk properly?’ Charlie asks.

  ‘Yeah, so like I wanna talk properly. What do I do?’

  ‘Pronunciation is a big part,’ Charlie says, ‘and avoiding the use of slang phrases or colloquial expressions and of course not abbreviating everything you say.’

  ‘So like, I say every letter in every word?’ Mo asks saying every letter of every word as everyone else chuckles.

  ‘Yes, that is a start,’ Charlie says, ‘and speaking to your audience.’

  ‘What’s that?’ Cookey asks.

  ‘As Blinky so awfully pointed out. One may adapt their way of speaking depending on the company the person is in. For instance, I may choose to be more polite and formal to Mr Howie, Clarence and Paula as I see them as leaders within this group thereby giving respect to the structure in place.’

  ‘Do you swear like a trooper when you’re with Blinky then?’ Nick asks.

  ‘No I do not.’

  ‘She does,’ Blinky says, ‘says cunt and everything.’

  ‘I do not say that word.’

  ‘I will hereon and er…speak properly,’ Mo announces.

  ‘Wherewithal,’ Nick says, ‘that’s a posh word, you should use that.’

  ‘Wherewithwho?’ Mo asks.

  ‘Wherewithal,’ Nick repeats.

  ‘What does this word mean?’ Mo asks in his new polite voice.

  ‘Fuck knows, I heard someone posh use it.’

  ‘Charlotte? Mo asks, ‘please do tell me what this word means.’

  ‘Money,’ Charlie says, ‘it’s a reference to having money for a specific purpose.’

  ‘Really?’ Nick asks, ‘thereby, that’s another posh word.’

  ‘Henceforth,’ Cookey says.

  ‘Thus,’ Blowers adds.

  ‘Vagina,’ Blinky says, ‘instead of cunt.’

  ‘Yes, thank you, Blinky,’ Charlie groans.

  ‘What? I was just saying you can say vagina instead of cunt.’

  ‘And you don’t have to keep saying it.’

  ‘What? Cunt?’

  ‘Patricia.’

  ‘Sorry, Dave.’

  *

  ‘Oh that’s so nice,’ Marcy says lying on the floor in the back of the van and feeling the temperature climb down from the air conditioning on full blast.

  ‘It is.’

  Lifting her head a few inches Marcy stares for a second at Paula leaning her back against the bulkhead next to the hatch door, ‘you okay?’

  ‘Me? Paula asks opening her eyes, ‘fine. You?’

  ‘Fine,’ Marcy says.

  ‘This conversation is riveting,’ Reginald mutters at the desk examining the map again.

  ‘Pah,’ Marcy says, ‘just because you found your testicles again.’

  ‘Marcy!’

  ‘What, Reggie?’

  ‘Reginald. My name is Reginald.’

  ‘You’ll always be Reggie to me.’

  ‘Be that as it may and yes I admit we have known each other for a time longer than the others…’

  ‘Shush now, you’re making hot air.’

  ‘You are insufferable.’

  ‘Am I? Really? Aw thanks, Reggie.’

  ‘It is not a compliment.’

  ‘You saying I’m ugly then?’

  ‘What?! I never said anything of the sort. I merely pointed out you are insufferable.’

  ‘Yeah but you said it wasn’t a compliment.’

  ‘Just because something is not a compliment it is not automatically rendered as a criticism of your physical being.’

  ‘So you’re saying I’m not ugly?’

  ‘I am not saying an
ything about the way you look…’

  ‘Oh leave him alone,’ Paula groans, ‘don’t rise to it, Reginald.’

  ‘Yes, yes you are right, Paula. I shall not rise to it.’

  ‘You will,’ Marcy says grinning up at him, ‘my little Reggie, it’s nice to see you smiling again.’

  ‘I do not smile.’

  ‘Well talking again instead of being all grumpy.’

  ‘Indeed.’

  ‘I have a question, Reggie.’

  ‘Reginald, Marcy. My name is Reginald.’

  ‘Can I ask my question?’

  ‘Is it a real question?’

  ‘Yes it is actually,’ she says rolling onto her side and propping her head up on one arm and her serious tone makes the small fastidious man turn in his seat.

  ‘Everyone has a role,’ she says glancing at Paula, ‘I mean look at everything Paula does…which is everything.’

  ‘Ah,’ Reginald says steepling his fingers, ‘yes you are questioning your reason for being within this group.’

  ‘Yes I am.’

  ‘I was contemplating this same thing and I knew it would be concerning you.’

  ‘How?’ She asks staring up at him.

  ‘Because you are vain,’ he says matter of fact, ‘you will always therefore be seeking to question your place in anything.’

  ‘I’m not actually vain,’ she says in a quiet voice, ‘I think that’s got a bit out of hand.’

  ‘If I looked like you I’d be vain,’ Paula says not unkindly.

  ‘I don’t just want to be judged on how I look…’

  ‘You play to how you look,’ Paula says gently, ‘we all grow into who we are.’

  ‘Hmm, so why am I here?’

  ‘Because you turned then turned back,’ Paula says.

  ‘Reginald did the same and he’s now got a reason for being here. Blinky can fight, Charlie is like super intelligent and super pretty…’

  ‘Marcy?’ Paula asks with a warning tone to her voice.

  ‘I’m not jealous,’ Marcy says, ‘but she is. She’s lovely. Roy can do that with his bow…I mean of all the people in the world to bump into and Roy finds this group?’

  ‘Reginald?’ Paula asks with a heavy sigh, ‘this is your field.’

  ‘This is not my field at all but yes, there will be a reason.’

  ‘Really?’ Paula asks quickly snapping her eyes back open.

  ‘Without doubt. Marcy is correct. Every person here plays a role. Perhaps to a degree some may find themselves fitting into a role as a conscious or even unconscious way of fitting into the group thereby securing their own safety. I for one only spoke up today because I could foresee the dangers presented…’

  ‘And going back to me again,’ Marcy says smiling wolfishly, ‘why am I here? What can I do?’

  ‘Lure men with your boobs.’

  ‘Paula,’ Marcy tuts but smiles over at her, ‘seriously?’

  ‘Perhaps that is yet to be known,’ Reginald says, ‘I confess there are…’ he stops to blink with his hands going to his tie knot that isn’t there, ‘variables? No…that is not right. There are things happening which we do not know.’

  ‘You’re so different now,’ Marcy says looking intently at Reginald, ‘like a completely different person.’

  ‘Indeed,’ he says ignoring the comment for the lack of intellectual value it contains, ‘in truth it must relate to your draw to Mr Howie.’

  ‘Pardon? You’ve changed because I fancy Howie?’

  ‘No,’ he says slowly rolling his eyes, ‘your role within the group must be connected to your draw to Mr Howie.’

  ‘You do fancy him then?’ Paula asks.

  ‘Yeah,’ Marcy laughs as Reginald rolls his eyes again.

  ‘Good Lord,’ Reginald says, ‘you asked a question. Perhaps we should focus on that rather than who we fancy.’

  ‘Who do you fancy then?’

  ‘Marcy, I do not fancy anyone. There are people in this world that operate above a base state of who they find physically attractive. I am giving consideration to the fact you have previously told me about your intense draw to Mr Howie. Indeed, I recall the days we spent in the houses by the bay opposite the fort while I begged for us to leave and you insisted we stay because you knew he would come.’

  ‘So you don’t fancy anyone?’

  ‘Oh for the love of…I am ending this conversation.’

  ‘Reggie, I’m only playing,’ Marcy says sitting up and reaching out a hand to rest on his knee, ‘don’t be weird with me.’

  ‘Weird?’

  ‘We’ve always been like this,’ she says, ‘I mess about and you nag.’

  ‘I have known you for a matter of days,’ Reginald says staring down into her eyes and seeing the woman he followed without question changing day by day, ‘you are changing,’ he says studying her eyes.

  ‘We’re all changing,’ she says, ‘your eyes are almost back to normal too and yeah, it’s only been days but Paula said this morning that time is magnified now…so it feels like I’ve known you for years.’

  ‘Yes,’ he says with a gentle sigh, ‘it does feel like that somewhat. Truly, Marcy. I do not know the reasons but I am thinking on it, along with many other things.’

  ‘How am I changing?’ She asks as Paula watches on with interest.

  ‘You were powerful,’ Reginald replies quickly with an answer given without hesitation, ‘you commanded. You had focus and intent that went hand in hand with your physical beauty. That power is diminishing and I am afraid all that will remain will be the physical beauty.’

  ‘Harsh, Reginald,’ Paula winces.

  ‘No, no I asked,’ Marcy says looking pensive, ‘maybe that’s all I am then. Something pretty to look at.’

  ‘Ah, you’re more than that,’ Paula says trying to force some belief into her voice.

  ‘What then? Lani could fight and she was beautiful. I can’t fight…I can’t plan like you do…I can’t think like Charlie…’

  ‘What happened in Maplin?’ Paula asks lifting her head an inch.

  ‘Maplin? Nothing…I just spoke to Howie.’

  ‘About what?’

  ‘I told him to calm down.’

  ‘What happened then? When you were inside?’

  ‘He was huffing and puffing and making everyone else stressed and poor Nick just found out he was immune but he was tapping his foot and muttering so I took him inside and made him relax a bit.’

  ‘Dave went flying in,’ Paula says with a look of knowing etched on her face.

  ‘I slapped Howie. He threatened me, saying I was trying to hold him up then accusing me of doing it on purpose…you know how he gets…all angry and brooding.’

  ‘So you slapped him?’ Paula asks chuckling, ‘did it work?’

  ‘Too right it did. I slapped him twice and then kissed him and he relaxed.’

  ‘Oh,’ Paula says lifting her eyebrows and glancing over to Reginald, ‘okay…so you kissed him…and then what?’

  ‘Well nothing. He calmed down and…’

  ‘And since he walked out of Maplin he’s been calmer,’ Paula says giving voice to the point she was building towards. ‘Marcy, Howie wouldn’t stop for a piss when he’s like that and the others would go with him simply because he’s Howie.’

  ‘Oh,’ Marcy says blinking, ‘so that’s my job then? To keep Howie calm?’

  ‘I’m not saying it like that…Reginald? Do you see where I’m going?’ Paula asks.

  ‘I do. Indeed. Mr Howie was intent on pushing forward but by your actions he stopped and allowed others, such as myself, the time to plan and calculate ahead.’

  ‘Oh,’ Marcy says again but duller this time as she deflates, ‘so it does come back to how I look. Howie fancies me so I can calm him down…I even promised to show him my arse tonight.’

  ‘You did what?’ Paula asks bursting out laughing again.

  ‘I did, he was like angry so I said I wanted to take the watch with him then we got talking ab
out my arse and I said I would show him but he had to stay alive today if he wanted to see it.’

  ‘Oh that’s what that was about,’ Paula says.

  ‘So I’m just tagging along now and my job is to give Howie something nice to play with.’

  ‘Hey,’ Paula snaps, ‘don’t you dare say that,’ she pauses as Marcy looks over sharply, ‘Howie isn’t like that and I think his attraction to you goes a bit beyond how you bloody look, Marcy. There’s a power to you two when you’re together. Jesus, you are vain. Everyone can see it so stop seeking reassurance.’

  ‘I only…’

  ‘I don’t care what you only did or didn’t say,’ Paula says scathing in her rebuttal, ‘Howie…no…we risked everything to get you and Reginald. Lani died for fuck’s sake. We follow Howie and Howie followed you. Is that enough for you?’ She stands quickly glaring at Marcy, ‘how far until we’re there?’ She asks Reginald.

  ‘A few minutes,’ Reginald replies quietly.

  ‘Fine. Tell me when we’re close.’

  ‘Paula,’ Marcy says standing up.

  ‘Enough. Pull your head out of your perfect arse, Marcy,’ she says closing the hatch behind her plunging the back of Roy’s van into a deep weighted silence that stretches out as Reginald turns back to studying the map.

  She goes to the back doors folding her arms and staring at the road behind realising she has no idea where they are. What town they are in or where they are near. Have they been through another town yet? Aren’t they leap-frogging or something? She looks down at the drone on the floor feeling like shit for not knowing how it works and not taking the interest to find out.

  She was something. She was powerful and she commanded. She had an army and a purpose too. She was going to prove this infection was intended to cure not to kill but something went wrong. Everything went wrong. Did it? Is it wrong? Confusion in her mind and the same confusion everyone feels at the nagging idea they are not following the right path.

  ‘Reginald,’ she says quietly, ‘what should we be doing?’

  ‘Seeking a cure,’ again he answers without hesitation with a reply of utter belief.

  That’s it. That’s the reason for being here. Together, between them all collectively, they hold a cure, or at least a vaccine but without the experts to understand it they are floundering about killing hundreds within a land now dominated by millions.

  She turns back to Reginald and watches him tracing his finger along a thick red line on the map while his other finger remains static an inch or so away from the first. His lips move as he calculates time and distance before glancing up to the monitor and nodding as though seeing what he wished to see.